DAISY    SWAIN, 


THE 


FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH. 


A  TALE   OF   THE  REBELLION. 


BY 

JOHN    M.    DAGNALL 


ILLUSTRATED. 


BEOOKL1TN,  TST.    Y 

»     ]  8  6  5. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

JOHN    M.    DAGNALL, 

la  the  Clerk's  Office  of  ^  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Eastern  District  of  New  York. 


SMITH  &  McDouGAL,  Electrotypers,  84  Beekman  St. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

Reuben  Swain — His  Character — The  Birth  of  Daisy. . .       7 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Comet— The  Northern  Fanatic— The  Southern 
Demagogue — The  First  Shot  at  Sumter — The  Bat 
tle—The  Wounded  Federal 23 

CHAPTER  HI. 

Reuben's  Alarm  at  the  Sound  of  Battle — Daisy's  Ab 
sence  from  the  Cot— Her  Return  Home  with  the 
Wounded  Soldier 4G 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Athol  tells  the  Cottagers  the  Story  of  his  Life— His 

Convalescence  and  his  Love  of  Daisy 60 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Lovers— The  Vow— The  Adieu— The  Storm— The 
Guerillas—The  Altercation...  75 


M130925 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

PAGE 

The  Affliction  of  Daisy— The  Death  of  both  her  Parents    97 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Funeral  of  Daisy's  Mother— The  Strange  Visitor..   106 

CHAPTER  VHI. 

Athol's  Letter  to  Daisy— She  quits  her  Place  of  Birth 
—Her  Search  of  Athol— Her  Despair— The  Loyal 
Peasants— The  Guerillas— The  Burning  Hut— Its 
Victims i 118 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Daisy  a  Captive— The  Bivouac— Daisy's  Doom 138 

CHAPTER  X. 

Daisy's    Rescue — Her   Deliverer — Her    Meeting  with 

Athol— The  Battle— Death  of  the  Lovers.. «...  154 


CHAPTER    I. 

Beuben  $waiu — $i$  (f^hatjactejj — fphe  Bitjth  of 

LONG  ere  ruthless  civil  war  laid  waste 

The  fertile  Shenandoah  Valley,  there  dwelt, 

In  all  his  rustic  nature  true,  and  free 

As  the  wind,  contented  Reuben  Swain.     On 

A  green  mound,  close  by  a  stream,  zigzagging 

Like  an  eel  on  sandy  bed  around  the  vale, 

Reubeti's  lovely  home,  a  neat  white  cot,  stood 

Raised  on  cedar  spiles.     This  marked  his  prudent 

mind ; 

As  ague  poisons  lurk  in  meadow  damp 
And  spring  freshets  had  inundate  the  plain. 


6;  '  DAISY   SWAIN, 

No  cupola  his  cottage  roof  adorned, 

Nor  did  paintings  decorate  its  inner  walls 

All  such  ornate  pride  he  left  to  autocrats, 

To  tilted  lords,  and  traffic's  purse-proud  kings. 

For,  truly,  Reuben's  nature  was  too  simple 

And  full  of  the  most  gentle  virtues  as 

To  even  think  of  such  vain,  showy  things  ; 

No,  his  pride  was  only  that  of  self-respect. 

Being  one  of  God's  true  creatures,  Reuben, 

Ere  each  morning  sun  arose,  would  upon 

His  bended  knees,  at  matin  prayer,  offer 

Up  his  humble  thanks  to  the  Giver  of  all  good 

For  blessings  which  he  hourly  conferred, 

Of  health  and  vigor,  with  their  many  joys, 

Cheering  his  path  through  life  to  ripe  old  age. 

Accustomed  from  his  earliest  youth  to  waken 
With  the  day,  Reuben  always  felt  a  joy 
To  see,  peering  through  the  gray  light  of  dawn, 
Streaks  of  the  rising  sun,  and  watch  the  flush 
Of  golden  light  resplendent  spread  along 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENANDOAII.  9 

The  sky  ;  the  verdant  landscape  o'er  illume  ; 
Tip  with  purpling  gleams  the  forest  pines  ; 
Disperse  the  blue  mists  from  the  mountain's  side. 

Then,  thus  early  in  the  fresh  morning  air, 
Reuben,  with  supple  step,  would  saunter  through 
His  well-cultured  fields  ;  and,  as  he  trod  the  grass 
Bespangled  o'er  with  crystal  dew,  he'd  watch 
With  gladsome  eye  his  flocks  upon  the  hillside 
Browse,  and  judge,  with  reason  clear,  the  yielding 
Promise  of  his  crops  ;  humming  to  himself, 
As  with  joyous  heart  he  homeward  bent  his  steps, 
Some  tender  breathing  of  his  soul  in  song  ; 
For  happy  as  his  days  were  pure,  untouched 
By  gnawing  want,  unstained  by  misery, 
Lived  gentle  Reuben  in  his  rural  home. 

Free  he  was  from  fear  of  loss,  from  cares,  distrust, 
The  worldly-minded  and  penurious  have  ; 
From  pangs  of  dire  adversity 
Attending  trade  and  constant  trafficking  ; 


10  DAISY  SWAIN, 

For  in  the  bounteous  vale  where  Eeuben  lived, 
The  only  clouds  which  lower'd  were  filled  with 

rain  ; 
Keviving  parch'd  lawn,  drooping  plant  and  flower. 

Nor  could  the  jade  of  fickle  fortune  coquet 
With  his  pride,  as  vain  were  all  her  blandishments 
Him  to  seduce  from  tranquil  state.     Yet, 
Notwithstanding  Keuben's  days  were  balmy 
As  an  Indian  summer's  cheering  glow,  still, 
His  life  by  no  means  was  a  listless  dream 
Of  indolence,  of  apathy,  of  sloth  ; 
For  an  innate  energy  to  labor 
On  his  acres  broad  strung  his  nerves  with  strength  ; 
Gave  tension  to  his  muscles,  suppleness 
To  his  joints,  an  appetite  for  food,  though 
Simple,  yet  wholesome  ;  brought  sleep  to  his  eyes, 
Ease  to  his  mind,  and  to  his  heart  tranquillity. 
Beside,  he  earned  from  his  patch  of  land,  funds 
Enough  to  keep  himself  in  time  of  need  ; 
In  case  his  strength  might  cease  from  old  age, 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENAKDOAH.  11 

Or  stricken  be  by  some  infirmity. 

This  was  the  only  selfishness  he  knew  ; 

And  he  took  good  care  the  surplus  cash  which  he 

Thus  saved  should  cater  to  no  banker's  greed, 

Nor  usury's  bait  allure  it  from  his  grasp, 

Nor  paper  bonds  with  golden  promises  ; 

For  Reuben,  in  his  lifetime,  heard  much  of 

Failures,  bankruptcy,  and  breach  of  trust ; 

How  in  a  moment's  time  the  rich,  as  well 

As  the    poor  man's  all,   had    been    from    them 

swept. 

No,  Eeuben  was  sole  guardian  of  his  gold. 
But  his  hoarded  pile  filled  no  chink  in  a  wall, 
Nor  hole  in  the  ground,  but  in  an  oaken  chest, 
It  snugly  laid  concealed  from  prying  eyes  ; 
Unsafe,  one  would  think,  from  prowling  burglar, 
Whose  greed  for  .others'  goods,  on    some   dark 

night, 

Might  tempt  his  predatory  steps  to  roam 
Those  parts  in  quest  of  spoil,  and  noiselessly 
Sack  good  Keuben's  coffer  of  its  treasure. 


12  DAISY   SWAIN, 

But  the  numbing  hand  of  time  had  scarcely 
Affected  Reuben's  senses  ;  for  his  ear 
Was  then  as  quick  to  catch  faint  sounds,  as  when 
A  boy,  hunting  squirrels  in  the  wild  woods  ; 
And  therefore  sounds  of  friendly  footsteps  knew 
From  the  stealthy  tread  of  a  sneaking  foe. 
Nor  was  his  the  sluggard's  leaden  sleep,  who 
Will,  even  when  his  eyes  are  open,  lie 
In  supine  lethargy  dozing,  peering 
Through  a  misty  veil  of  film  ;  and  blinking 
In  the  light  of  day,  soon  again  drop  off 
Unconsciously  to  sleep.     But  no  such  languor 
Blurred  the  light  of  Reuben's  eyes  :  once  their  lids 
Were  raised,   their    lamps  would  brightly  burn 

renewed 

With  vigor's  oil,  by  which  he'd  soon  discern 
Strange  visions,  should  they  near  him  flit  at  night; 
Which  as  soon  as  seen  about,  his  hand 
Would  on  his  gun,  already  primed  to  kill 
The  prowling  wolf  and  panther  sly,  that  sometimes 
From  their  lairs  in  forests  wild  came,  and  raised 


THE  FLOWEK   OF   SHENA^DOAH.  13 

Nocturnal  havoc  'mong  his  sheep,  be  clasped. 

Then,  as  to  his  neighbors  of  the  plain,  Keuben 

Knew  their  habits,  tastes,  and  pedigrees  too  well 

To  fear  his  gold  would  jaundice  their  eyes.     They 

Reuben's  gentle,  upright  nature  also  knew  ; 

Knew  that  the  beam  of  divine  justice  shone 

In  his  heart  to  every  one  alike  within 

The  valley  ;  and  blending  theirs  with  his,  lived 

In  peace  and  harmony  together  : 

For  each  one's  sense  of  equity  was  just. 

Honor  was  kind  Reuben's  guide  ;  probity 

Their  counsellor  ;  nothing  foul  corrupted 

Reuben's  mind  ;  nor  was  his  taste  depraved  ; 

His  bev'rage  was  the  same  that  Adam  drank  : 

Water  pure  from  clear  springs  and  rocky  founts. 

This  he  knew  would  poison  nought  within,  nor 

Thrill  his  nerves  awhile  with  spurious  ecstacy, 

To  deaden  the  keen  sensibility 

Of  body,  heart,  and  soul,  like  alcohol, 

The  demon,  that  fires  with  delirium 

The  drunkard's  brain,  and  fills  the  minds  of  men 

2 


14  DAISY   SWAIN, 

With  dark  designs  and  treason's  treach'rous  guilt, 
Angry  quarrels,  murder  ;  then  remorse  which 
Struggles  hard  with   sleep.     No,  Eeuben  would 

shrink 

With  loathing  from  the  devil's  nectared  bane, 
And  aught  which  tended  to  engender  heat 
Of  blood,  burning  thirst,  and  gusts  of  passions 

vile. 
Temperate  wishes  only  were  in  his  soul. 

The  fleecy  fabric  shorn  from  his  own  sheep, 
Woven  on  his  own  loom,  sufficed  to  guard 
His  body  'gainst  inclement  gales,  and  warm 
Him  in  the  fiercest  wintry  blow  ;  and  in 
This  simple  raiment  clad,  Eeuben  felt 
As  great  as  any  Eastern  nabob  proud, 
Bedecked  with  royal  robes  ;  as  nature's  lord 
Was  he,  and  reigned  supreme  in  his  neat  cot, 
His  castle  proud  on  nature's  realms  built, 
On  a  green  lawn,  within  a  bounteous  plain, 
Where  creation  was  prolific  with  her  products. 


THE  FLOWEE  OF  SHENANDOAH.  15 

To  Keuben  'twas  the  loveliest  spot  on  earth, 
Where  many  sunny  years  of  bliss  he  passed, 
Sharing  the  joys  of  dear  domestic  life 
With  the  partner  of  his  soul,  his  Nancy  dear, 
More  faithful,  fair,  and  kind  than  half  of  those 
Who  blaze  in  vain,  proud,  ostentatious  show  : 
One  who    knew  her    duties  well,   her  womanly 

sphere, 

And  the  sweet  pleasures  of  the  virtuous  heart ; 
Which  was  the  only  bliss  her  husband  sought. 

There,  in  the  quiet  place  wherein  the  happy  pair 
Found  shelter,  food,  and  rest,  reason  ruled 
Their  minds  and  guided  them  with  judgment ;  for 
Too  well  they  understood  the  sacred  bond, 
By  which  their  two  dear  souls  were  bound  as  one, 
To  mar  their  wedded  bliss  with  household  jars, 
Knowing  angry  breath  in  ears  young  is  baneful  : 
And  in  sweet  connubial  union  their  love 
Long  ago  had  multiplied  itself.     The  seed 
From  vigorous  stem  was  cull'd,  and  free  from 


16 


DAISY   SWAIN, 


Withering  blight ;  kind  nature  undertook 
The  task  imposed  ;  and  time  brought  forth  a  bud 
Of  grace,  all  tenderness,  which  doubly  blest 
Their  yoke,  and  crowned  with  joy  their  nuptial 
couch. 


THE  FLOWER   OF   SHENANDOAH.  17 

The  germ  in  beauty's  mould  was  cast,  budded 
Forth,  and  blossomed  ;  in  sacred  soil  grew  up 
To  vernal  morn  of  life,  fresh  as  a  rose 
In  unmolested  shade,  or  violet  chaste 
In  all  its  virgin  freshness,  unassuming, 
Modest,  all  rural  grace,  and  simple  charms. 

The  joy  of  her  pure  heart,  all  smiles,  all  cheer, 
Like  rising  sunlight  on  a  dewy  lawn,  shone 
On  her  dimpling  cheeks ;  rouged  with  tincture  from 
Vermeil    meads  :    health's    purpling    flood    that 

coursed  in 
Her  azure  veins. 

The  vital  essence  glowed 
In  her  eyes,  radiant,  pure,  and  mild,  like  two 
Bright  orbs  fixed  in  the  coronet  of  Heaven  : 
Endowed  they  seemed  with  photographic  power 
To  print  from  blooming  flowers  certain  shades  ; 
As  they  one  noon-time  bright,  while  ardently 

Fixed  upon  a  variegated  bed,  drew 
2* 


18 


By  some  charmed  affinity  in  their  gaze, 

Blended  hues  from  both  blue-bell  and  lily  ; 

And  so  bright  withal,  that  e'en  a  lover's  glanco 

might 

Dim  before  their  lustrous  beaming,  or  be 
Dazzled  so  his  mind's  eye  would  flashing  see 
Across  his  brain,  a  thousand  stars  glitt'ring 
Eesplendent  with  heavenly  jewelry. 

Enrobed  in  raiment  woven  plain  upon 
Her  mother's  loom,  she,  by  broach  or  bracelet 
Unadorned,  looked  with  more  attractive  grace 
Than  if  bedecked  in  fashion's  gaudy  finery. 
Besides,  her  form  was  faultless  as  the  Venus 
Of  Milo,  as  fair,  as  tender  to  the  view  ; 
Kequired  no  false  blandishments  to  lure 
The  eye,  nor  stuffs  to  give  herself  proportion  : 
Her  heart  was  void  of  all  such  guile,  as  truth, 
Early  to  her  God,  had  risen  up  her  soul 
To  heaven,  where  her  faith  in  Him  reposed. 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH. 


19 


Thus  arrayed  in  nature's  simple  beauty, 
Daisy  Swain,  the  flower  of  Shenandoah, 
Since  taken  from  her  parent  bed,  was 
Mildly  nurtured  with  parental  sway, 
And  prospered  in  her  father's  fostering  hands, 
Full  sixteen  years  unconscious  of  a  thorn  ; 
Unstained  by  care  and  sorrow's  withering  sigh 


20  DAISY  SWAIST, 

Nor  had  she  felt  the  pangs  of  fickle  love, 
That  sighs  assent,  then  vanishes  from  sight. 
She  was  her  parents'  joy  ;  their  dear  pledge  of 
Reciprocal  love  ;  their  pride  of  heart,  whom 
They  idolized  with  fond,  indulgent  care. 

Truly,  Keuben  blest  his  happy  lot,  as 
His  dear  wife  and  child  made  his  cherished  home 
An  envied  Paradise,  remote  from  power, 
Despots,  and  proud  high-toned  authority. 
For  thus  in  quiet  state  he  lived  in  vale  of  peace, 
Where  nature  gave  refreshing  showers  to 
Ev'ry  living  creature  in  the  valley  ; 
High  and  low  of  birth  ;  and  of  mean  degree. 
There,  playful  zephyr  breathed  around  his  cot ; 
And  feather'd  minstrels  trilled  their  dulcet  pipes 
Melodiously  from  boughs  of  hick'ry  green 
And  chestnut,  whose  leafy  branches  intertwined 
Above  its  roof,  and  formed  a  canopy 
Which  screened,   from  scorching  mid-day,  heat, 
one  of 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.  21 

The  most  happy  men  on  this  revolving  orb  ; 
One  in  whose  heart  the  pure  flame  of  devotion 
Burned,  whose  eye,  when  raised  toward  the  Great 

Supreme, 

Saw  His  blessed  spirit  in  the  heavens 
Poised  on  beams  of  holy  light  eternal ; 
For  in  Him  who  gilds  the  clouds  with  serene  light, 
And  moves  them  at  His  will,  was  the  faith  of 
Reuben,  who,  although  with  eyes  untutored, 
Saw  the  book  of  God  was  always  open 
To    His    creatures ;   bound  with    blue    sky  and 

illumed 

v 

With  mingling  tints  of  hills,  woods,  and  plains, 

which 

Marked  the  pictured  landscape  as  the  blessed  work 
Of  Hands  unerringly  Divine,  and  governed 
By  a  Mind  most  potent  to  control  all 
Within  the  universal  world,  His  who  keeps 
An  eye  benignant  on  His  creatures. 
Yes,  Reuben  saw  God's  kingly  spirit  throned 
Among  the  hills,  the  forests,  vales,  and  wilds  ; 


22  DAISY  SWAIN, 

And  heard  His  awe-inspiring  voice  thunder 
In  the  torrent's  roar,  murmur  sweetly  in 
The  tingling  rill,  and  whisper  in  the  breeze  ; 
Felt  His  friendship  in  the  warm  sunlight,  gave 
Life,  and  joy,  and  hope  to  those  who  are  not 
Tied  to  earth  by  doubts  and  worldly  things  : 
Saw  God's  glad  eye  peering  through  the  stars  by 

night, 

In  concentric  glimpses  from  His  throne  of 
Glory,  where,  when  heaven  w^ould  untie 
His  human  bands,  -Reuben  knew  full  well  that 
His  good  soul  being  from  its  earthy  matter  broke, 
Would  gladly  mount  the  void  of  viewless  air, 
And  mingle  with  the  spirits  of  the  pure 
And  holy. 


CHAPTER    II. 

fphe  (ftomet — fgho  ^o^theijn  fanatic — ^ho  $cutherLn 

$)emat)09ue — ^5he  3fijj$t  $hot  at  ^umpterL — (^ho 

Battle— ^ho  Moun4e4  itfede^al. 

SCAECE  had  the  shock  of  party  strife  begun 

To  vibrate  on  the  nation's  heart,  than  from  out 


Its  dreadful  depths  a  comet  flash'd  athwart 

The  lurid  sky,  and  glanced  its  fiery  gleams 

Upon  star-gazers'  eyes.     They  shrank  amazed, 

With  wonder  and  dismay  alternate, 

In  their  breathless  stare.     Timid  hearts  fluttered 

With  affright.     Their  fear-fraught  minds  imagined 

That  the  face  of  heaven  scowling  lowered  ; 

That  darker  frowns  deformed  the  brow  of  night, 

Just  where  the  shadow  marked  its  orbit's  trail, 

Foredooming  to  their  terror-stricken  hearts, 

That  soon  their  sun  of  day  would  be  eclipsed 

Forever  in  chaotic  darkness.     Even 

Those  not  quite  so  superstitious  foreboded 

The  celestial  visitor  ominous 

Of  evil  dire  unto  Columbia's  sons  : 

Some  great  misfortune  to  their  nation,  torn 

By  faction,  on  the  brink  of  dissolution, 

WTould  be  rent  asunder  by  domestic  foes, 

Thirsty  for  spoils,  for  power,  and  ambition. 

Alas !  thus  luckless  did  the  omen  prove  ; 

For  dark  spirits  then  in  secret  conclave 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHEKANDOAH.  25 

Thronged  around  us  almost  everywhere, 
Scheming  to  fire  our  minds  with  discontent, 
Intensify  our  party  pride  to  frenzy  ; 
And  to  barter  our  blest  inheritance 
To  secret  traitors  and  the  fiend  war, 
Which  often  plague  the  world  and  banish 
Men's  repose. 

'Twas  in  those  momentous  times, 
That,  with  his  hoary  head  absorbed,  hung  low 
Upon  his  agitated  breast,  and  with 
His  anxious  visage  haggard  made  by  thoughts 
Rebellious,  there  sat  alone  in  his  abode 
A  vulture-beak'd  victim  of  unsated  pride, 
Deeply  hatching  in  his  subtle  brains  schemes 
The  most  seditious  to  disturb  the  peace 
And  sever  the  bond  of  social  life  and 
Friendship's  holy  wreaths,  which  bound  us  North 

and  South. 
Matured,  some  wily  thought  his  bent  brows  raised. 

Quick  as  a  meteor's  flash  in  night's  dark  sky, 
3* 


DAISY   SWAIN, 


A  sudden  flush  of  inward  joy  lit  up 
His  scowling  features.     Then  starting  to  his  feet, 
He  paced,  with  nervous  tread,  the  tapestry, 
And  rubbed  his  hands  exultingly  at  some 
Hellish  plot  his  crafty  mind  conceived. 
'Twas  to  kindle  with  incensive  breath, 
The  igneous  volcano  of  rebellion, 
Smouldering  in  the  breasts  of  freemen  South  : 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENANDOAH.  5 

For,  the  aim  of  all  his  life  had  been  to  earn 
In  their  mad  struggles,  the  short-lived  glories 
Of  a  puffed-up  name,  e'en  tho'  'twere  coupled 
"With  foul  and  blasting  infamy,  likewise 
His  country's  disgrace.     'Twas  this  false  honor 
Alone  inspired  his  dark  soul  and  made  him, — 
Hoping  to  attain  his  wished-for  height — 
Venal  both  to  his  constituents,  and 
Blushless  at  his  own  plans  to  embroil  the  States 
In  brutal,  internecine  conflict :  for, 
The  fanatic's  wily  mind  did  well  discern, 
In  the  proud  South,  the  darker  shade  of 
Slav'ry,  which  to  distort  from  features  real  was 
The  s61e  purpose  of  his  crafty  fancy. 
There,  upon  his  mental  vision  glittered, 
From  the  Ethiopian's  brow,  a  diamond  black  : 
The  dazzling  prize  so  touched  his  covetous  soul, 
That  down  he  knelt  before  his  black  idol  ; 
Crouched,  spaniel-like,  to  kiss  its  feet ; 
Turned  up  the  white  of  his  eyes  to'ards  heaven, 
And  implored  the  Lord  on  high  to  befriend 


28  DAISY  SWAIN, 

The  poor,  fat,  dusky  son  of  Africa, 

Manacled  with   chains,  which  made  his  pierced 

heart 

Wail  echoes  the  year  round  to  their  clanging  sounds. 
"What  sanctified  disguise,  base  hypocrite  ! 
What  a  feint  delusive  the  hand  of  power 
To  grasp  !     Was  it  not  a  mask  most  guileful 
Through  which  you  sought  to  gain  your  own  bad 

ends? 

For  you  could  well  dissemble  and  disguise 
Your  dangerous  intents. 

Thus,  under  pretence 
Of  human  good  and  his  country's  honor, 
The  favorite  side  he  joined,  the  people's  votes 
By  subtle  craft  and  subterfuge  to  win  : 
In  stately  halls  shrieked  freedom  for  the  blacks, 
To  a  gloomy,  narrow-minded  concourse 
Of  visionary  bigots  and  fanatics  : 
Told  how  the  slaves  in  servile  chains  lingered 
Out  a  life  far  worse  than  death  itself  ;  and  how 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.  29 

Their  cruel  masters  flayed  them  so,  till,  through 

Their  lacerated  flesh,  their  bones  protruded. 

"  We  must  rise/'  he  said,  "  and  overwhelm 

In  one  common  ruin,  these  brute  men  ;  must  wrest 

The  beastly  chattels  from  the  monsters  ;  and  if 

Opposed  by  them  in  our  incursions  on 

Then:  soil,  our  heels,  where'er  they  tread,  ruins 

Euthless  marks  must  print  whilst  liberating 

From  their  cruel  bonds,  a  disfranchised,  abused, 

Unpitied  race." 

Such  were  the  views  he  vented 
To  his  list'ning  hosts,  whose  hearts  he  fired  with 
Indignation  keen  against  the  slaveholder. 
Then  him  they  sanctioned  as  their  party  choice  ; 
Rose  him  with  their  fulsome  breath  and  votes  from 
Common  life  to  an  exalted  station  : 
For,  on  the  tide  of  popular  favor, 
Soon  he  floated  into  office,  to  rule 
And  glitter  like  a  meteor  for  an  hour. 


30  DAISY  SWAIN, 

Meantime,  in  the  haughty  South,  a  demagogue 
Urged,  from  the  rostrum,  in  the  slave  mart, 
Excited,  discontented  freemen, 
To  spurn  all  future  refuge  'neath  the  "  flag 
Whose  starry  folds  wrapt  freedom  in  her  grave." 
•His  ambition  burned  in  ruthless  deeds  ; 
For  his  pride  was  that  of  glaring  pomp,  love 
Of  conquest,  and  of  fame  that  might  resound 
Through  vaulted  skies,  till  times  remote  should 

hand 

His  glories  down  in  the  historic  page. 
There,  the  weak  mortal  to  true  glory  blind, 
Stood  venting  forth  the  fervid  emanations 
Of  his  own  proud,  domineering  soul,  in 
Gestures  like  the  antics  of  an  idiot, 
To  a  crowd  of  lawless  bullies,  youths,  and  men, 
Inciting  them  to  raise  the  standard  of 
Kevolt  against  their  lawful  government. 
He  said  :  the  crisis  called  them  to  their  duty  ; 
That  if  they  would  be  freemen,  they  must  leave 
Their  peaceful  homes  for  high  aims  to  attain, 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.  31 

By  taking  arms  np  in  defense  of  State  rights  ; 
That  their  firesides  and  altars  were  endangered 
By  a  factious  horde  of  galling  bigots, 
Then  installed  in  office,  who  would  them  govern 
With  an  iron  rod,  just  as  their  ruthless  wills 
Proposed  :  invade  IJheir  sacred  fields,  ransack 
Their  homes,  and  free,  without  law  or  price,  their 
slaves. 

Thus  harangued  the  fire-eating  scorpion 
With  wrathful  tongue  unruly ,  soon  he  fired 
His  listeners'   minds   and  hearts  with  loud 

complaints 

Of  tyranny.     Tyranny  !  in  a  land 
Where  independence  lifts  her  dauntless  brow, 
And  where  freedom  is  Columbia's  boast ! 

"  If  we  had  withered  in  the  womb,"  he  cried, 
"  Or  that  when  we  were  infants  at  the  breast, 
Our  mothers  had,  with  deadly  nightshade  smear'd 
Their  nipples  o'er,  and  then  had,  with  their  milk 


Thus  impregnated  with  the  bane  of  death, 

Suckled  us  to  graves  untimely,  better 

It  would  have  been,  than  for  us  now  to  smother 

In  our  freeborn  hearts  the  chiding  curse 

Of  Northern  foes,  whose  galling  enmity 

Has,  in  the  South,  Liberty's  bright  sun  dimm'd 

With  Discord's  blackest  cloud. 

"  But,  friends,  I  say, 
Let  the  infernal  band  of  livid  spectres 
Of  despair  once  cross  our  path  ;  the  horde  of 
Hell-born  snakes  will  in  their  warped  skins 
Shrink  dismayed  before  our  might  and  strength  : 
"We'll  our  bright  meads  redden  with  their  blood  ; 

heap 

With  their  marrowless  bones,  ihe  pageant  death, 
On  ev'ry  Southern  plain  ;  while,  with  shot,  with 
Shell,  and  murd'ring  knife,  we  shall  their  States 

invade  : 

Ay,  plant  as  many  bayonets  on  their  fields 
As  there  are  blades  of  grass.     Therefore,  valiant 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENAKDOAH.  33 

Be.     Endure  with  fortitude  the  toils  of 

War.     Be  warriors  all  in  conflict,  nor  let 

One  of  you  a  coward  turn  ;  but  when  you  find 

The  dastard  Yankee  wounded,  bleeding  out 

His  craven  spirit  on  the  ground,  permit 

No  soft,  mawkish  pity  your  tears  to  crave, 

As  the  hardest  heart  will  sometimes  melt  'fore 

Dying  eyes,  but  let  your  own  eyes  at  him  roll 

With  fiery  scorn.    Let  all  your  breath  be  charged 

With  Anger's  poison  ;  and  like  a  serpent 

Hiss  into  his  ears  the  venom'd  bane  ;  you  damn'd, 

Sneaking,  lily-livered  Yankee,  die  ; 

We  no  quarter  show,  no  mercy  have 

For  nigger-thieves  ;  then  with  your  bayonets  pin 

Him  to  the  ground." 

r 

Then,  loud  his  maddened  hosts, 
With  wild  hurras,  the  demagogue  applauded  ; 
Swore  that  they'd  with  fire  and  sword  do  deeds  of 
Ruthless  stamp  ;  would  pillage,  burn,  leave  behind 
Them  death  in  every  Yankee  town  ;  and  bear 


34  .  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Ensanguined  trophies  to  their  free-made  homes  ; 
Map  out  through  fell  havoc  on  rebellious  soil, 
A  nation  of  their  own,  for  them  to  fix, 
Till  doomsday  came,  a  firmer  yoke  upon 
Their  slaves. 


Then  soon  the  startling  news  on  wings  of  lightning 

Flashed  through  ev'ry  part  of  fair  Columbia's  land  ; 

That,  in  the  South,  insurgents  were,  with  bombs, 

Shelling  freedom's  starry  ensign  on 

Sumter's  isolated  fort,  waving. 

•Ketribution,  thereupon,  was  promised 

By  the  North.     Futile  were  all  peace  petitions 

To  avert  the  strife  ;  as  rage  vindictive 

Was  too  blind  for  moral  arbitration  ; 

And  yet  both  sides  were  base  enough  to  call 

Upon  high  Heaven,  in  the  clash  to  aid  them. 

Sounds  of  trumpet,  drum,  and  shrilling  fife  were 
Heard  through  all  the  land,  rousing  men  to  arms, 


THE  FLOWER   OF   SHETsTAI^DOAII. 


35 


Hurrying  on  the  deadly  conflict  by 
Parasites  and  cowards,  both  of  North  and  South, 
Who  feared  to  stain  their  own  right  hands  in 
Human  gore  ;  and  from  window,  pole,  and  peak, 
Waved  the  civic  garland  of  our  liberties, 
Inspiring  chivalrous  men  to  furious  fight. 

Then  songs  and  bloody  hymns  were  sung  by  sons 


36 


DAISY    SWAIN 


Undaunted,  as  they  thro'  the  madden'd  nation 
March'd  straight  on  to  the  red  fields  of  slaughter, 

there 

With  dearest  blood  to  fertilize  the  soil, 
And  earn,  in  righteous  cause,  a  glorious  name. 
Soon  war  and  rapine  wild,  both  far  and  near,  stalked 
Madly  o'er  Virginia's  soil.     There,  down  in 


THE  FLOWER  OF  8HENANDOAH.  8' 

The  fertile  valley  of  the  Shenandoah, 
Eesounded  loud  red  War's  fierce  rattle.     There 
Advancing  hosts  of  bannered  foemen  met, 
Emblazoned  gay,  in  pride  of  fancy  dress, 
And  charged  each  foremost  line  with  musketry. 
Alert,  the  rebels  bold  with  desperate  dash 
Hurled,  with  all  their  ardor  wild,  their  forces  stron< 
Upon  their  Federal  foes.     Fiercely  flashed 
The  red  artillery.     Swiftly  shrieking  shells 


38  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Burst  in  among  the  brave,  and  made  their  blood 
In  torrents  flow.      Then  bayonets   charged  and 

clashed 

Against  each  glitt'ring  blade.     Horse  and  rider 
Plunged  into  the  fray,  and  swelled  the  mortal  strife 
Of  battle  hot  :  while  Death,   through   sulph'rous 

clouds 

Of  smoke,  grinn'd  and  gloated  as  he  eyed  firm 
Heroes,  from  their  shattered  lines  and  columns, 
Fall  and  swell    the    slaughter ;   and  where  the 

maimed 

Lay,  here  and  there,  upon  the  gory  field, 
Bending  the  air  with  fitful  cries  and  groans, 
Writhing,   like  wounded  snakes,    from   horrid 

tortures. 

So,  in  full  retreat  and  loose  array,  down 
The  hill  the  Federals  wildly  rushed,  o'erwhelm'd  ; 
Hank  and  file,  hard  pressed  by  the  rebels  : 
Through  thickets  dense,  'cross  fertile  fields  and 
vales, 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENANDOAH.  39 

Dismayed  their  broken  columns  flew,  leaving 
On  that  bloody  field  many  comrades  brave, 
Who  now  sleep  in  their  trench-dug  sepulchres. 
Yet,  one  among  the  federal  bands,  wounded 
And  faint  from  loss  of  blood,  footsore,  halted 
At  a  gurgling  brook,  where  he,  all  smeared  with 
His  life-blood,  stooped  down  ;  and,  in  the  hollow 
Of  his  right  hand,  scoop'd  drops  of  water  few, 
With  which  his  burning  thirst  he  quenched. 

Then,  from 

The  margin  of  the  stream,  he  tried  to  raise  himself, 
Fearing,  lest  he  there  too  tardy  stayed,  captured 
He  might  be  by  some  disloyal  enemy  • 
Prowling    rampant    round   those    parts,    in    hot 

pursuit 

Of  straggling  and  of  ambushed  foes  :  but  irksome 
Was  the  task.     The  sinews  of  his  knees 
Were  void  of  strength.  His  tired  limbs  the  burden 
Of  his  body  could  not  bear.     A  shudder 
Shook  his  jaded  frame  :  'twas  the  harbinger 


40  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Of  comfortless  despair  which  soon  darkened 
His  fevered  brain  ;  for,  ere  long,  his  head  grew 
So  giddy,  that  the  verdant  landscape  seemed 
Unto  his  blurred  eyes,  just  like  a  green  mist 
Risen  from  the  ground.     Then,  round  and  round, 

his  head 
Eeeled.     Faint   and  sick  at  heart,  he  stagg'ring 

grasped, 

With  feeble  hands,  a  willow  twig  dangling 
Near  him  ;  and  with  its  friendly  aid  lower'd 
Himself  down  upon  the  damp  grass,  resolved 
To  abide  the  ordeal  of  strengthless  fate. 

Then  wrapping  himself  up  in  the  standard 
"Which  he  through  a  hard  campaign  had  borne  : 

happy 
In  the  thought  that  should  his  eyes  ne'er  open 

more 

To  view  the  morning's  light,  its  starry  folds 
Would  be,  at  least,  his  shroud  obsequious. 
So,  weary,  worn,  all  gnashed,  exhausted,  quite 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SIIENANDOAII.  41 

Resigned,   he    let    his   weak    frame    throb    and 

struggle 

'Gainst  his  parting  life  upon  the  humid  ground, 
Where  outstretched  full  length  he  lay  beneath 
A  spreading  willow,  whose  pliant  branches 
Waved  above,  and  soothingly  fanned  his  face, 
All  gaunt  and  spectre-like  :  yet,  though  grim 
His  features  were,  and  shaded  with  the  hue  of 
Death,  still,  in  their  fine  outlines  remained 
Traces  symmetrical,  showing  that  they  had 
Been  in  the  fairest  mould  of  beauty  cast. 

But  his  fevered  mind  soon  somnolent  became. 
In  dreamy  mood  he  thought  of  the  home  he'd  left 
Behind  him,  and  of  his  aged  mother 
Far  away  :  he  fancied  he  saw  her  smile  ; 
And  with  her  arms  outstretched  in  fullness  of 
Joy,  ready  to  clasp  to  her  fond  bosom 
Her  soldier  son.     He,  likewise,  thought  he  heard 
Her  soft  voice  say,  "  Oh  !  Athol  dear,  how  glad 
Am  I  to  see  that  you  have  home  returned 


Breaking  through  a  rain-cloud,  which  shone  upon 

His  wan  face  :  for  soon  the  past  joys  of  home 

And  friends,  his  ardent  fancy  had  conjured, 

Quickly  vanished  before  his  reason's  strength, 

And  left  his  mind  in  dark,  despondent  gloom. 

Then  he  wept ;  for  he  keenly  realized 

The  true  condition  of  his  hapless  plight 

And  how  fallacious  was  the  hope,  in  such 

A  dying  state,  of  ever  sharing,  with 

His  tender  parent,  her  gladsome  care  again. 

Ah,  then,  he  knew  no  good  Samaritan 
Was  nigh  with  balm  to  heal  his  wound  ;  nor  did 
He  hear  an  angel's  light  foot  fall  upon 
The  ground,  bringing  an  assauging  draught  to  ease 
His  racking  pains.     No,  he  gave  up  his  life 


THE  FLOWER  OF   BHENANDOAH.  43 

As  lost,  for  each  moment  he  heavier  breathed, 
And  louder  by  spells,  he  groaned  from  his  aches, 
And  also  thought  he  heard  the  voice  of  death, 
In  the  hollow  moaning  of  the  wind, 
That  fretful  sighed  around  him  :  a  fitful  gust 
Of  which,  just  then,  from  off  his  temples  smooth, 
Detached  some  beaded  drops  of  fevered  sweat 
Which  clung  like  dew  upon  a  lily's  leaf 
On  his  pale  brow  :  one  pellucid  globule 
Eoll'd  upon  his  half-closed  eye-lash  ;  its  gleam 
His  wand'riiig  mind,  and  vision  dim,  mistook 
For  the  glitter  of  the  vestal  star  twinkling 
Through  the  willow's  foliage  above  his  head. 

'Twas  then  twilight,  yet  no  friendly  succor 
Came  to  his  aid.     Alone,  the  evening  dew, 
As  'twere,  seemed  to  commiserate  him,  in 
His  hapless  state,  with  tears  compassionate 
Shed  on  his  languid  form  ;  and  when  he  saw 
The  light  of  day  fast  fading  from  his  view, 
Hope's  bright  beam  nickered  in  his  panting  heart. 


44  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Still,  he'd  judge  it  folly  to  repine  'gainst 

What  Heaven   ordained,   as  his   conscience  told 

him 

That  man,  soever  good,  and  soldier  brave, 
Are  sometimes  in  this  checquered  life  destined 
To  suffer  torturing  ills,  which  often 
Bring  them,  ere  their  lives  have  run  the  length  of 
The  allotted  span,  down  to  early  graves. 

But  it  would,   he    thought,   have    been    more 

honorable 

If  fate,  with  her  unerring  hand,  had  hurled 
Upon  the  field,  rebellion's  missile  swift 
Through  his  brain  ;  so  that  he  could  have  fallen 
'Mong  many  warring  hosts  unknown,  but  brave, 
And  mingled  his  with  their  courageous  blood, 
Than  there,  with  feelings  sore,  linger  and  waste 
Away  by  fever  ;  be  flesh-conquered  ;  die 
And  rot  :  his  body  fill  no  hallowed  vault 
Nor  soldier's  grave,  but  He  exposed,  where 


THE   FLOWER   OF   SIIENAKDOAH.  45 

Buzzards  sought  their  prey  :  he  shudder' d  at  the 

thought, 

And  gasping,  shrieked  aloud,  they  soon  would 
Fly  around  his  bier  and  riot  on 
His  lifeless  flesh. 


CHAPTEE    III. 

Reuben's  $laijm   at  the   $ound  of  Battle — Baisy's 

Absence  friom  the  (ftot — $eti  Betwm  $ome 

with  the  bounded  $oldietj. 

UPON  the  balmy  breeze  of  that  same  morning 
Reuben,  the  peasant,  from  his  smiling  cot, 
Heard  the  battle's  horrid  din  resound, 
And  saw,  afar,  thick,  sulphurous  smoke  dimly 
Rear  in  black  wreaths  to'ards  the  glaring  sun. 
'Twas  but  an  hour  before  the  valley  rang 
With  war's  alarm,  that  in  the  morning  ray,  he 
O'er  his  neat  fields  trod  ;  nor  feared  to  meet 
Friend  or  enemy  of  the  warring  bands. 
Both  were  foes  to  him. 

For  when  the  roar  of 
Booming  cannon  echoed  on  his  startled  ear, 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.  47 

He  thought  that  ere  the  evening  came,  he'd  look 
Upon  his  burning  cot  and  wander  round 
A  homeless  man.     But  twilight  came.    Long  since 
The  battle's  warlike  blasts  had  died  away  ; 
And  glad  he  was  to  find  his  fields  were  still 
Adorned  with  waving  grain. 

But  when  he  saw 

His  beloved  child  was  not  at  home  to  cheer 
Him  with  her  pleasing  smile,  and  bless  him  at 
The    evening    board,   a    poignant    pang    went 

straight 

To  his  heart,  that  some  mishap  his  daughter 
Had  befallen. 

For  no  tidings  of  her  had 

Arrived,  since,  in  the  gleam  of  morning's  sunshine, 
Her  father's  cot  she  quit,  to  saunter  through 
Her  native  vale  ;  and  blithe  and  jocund  wind 
Amid  its  green  retreats  ;  joyously  scent 
The  woodbine  wild,  and  quaff  the  balmy  air  ; 


48 


DAISY   SVVALN", 


And  to  let  the  zephyr  of  fragrant  meads 
Mellow  in  deeper  tints  her  beamy  face. 


But  as  she  gayly  tripp'd  with  fawn-like  steps, 
Through  green  paths,  observing  with  enraptured 

eye, 

The  varied  landscape  o'er — her  soul's  delight — 
And  breathing  sylvan  sweets  with  spirits  gay, 


THE  FLOWER   OF  SHENANDOAII.  49 

War's  infernal  gong  through  the  surrounding  hills, 

Reverbrated  loud  and  pierced  her  ears. 

The   dread  shocks  her  heart's  blood  stagnated. 

Fear 

Forced  its  livid  pallor  o'er  her  roseate  cheeks, 
Which  marred  awhile  the  lustre  of  their  bloom. 
But  the  rose  ne'er  drooped.    The  shock  was  but 
A   passing  gust,  which  chilled  awhile  her  warm 

blood, 

As  she  soon  revived  and  glowed  again  in 
All  her  fullness  of  sweet  budding  charms. 

Then  curiosity's  incentive  power 
Entered  her  timid  heart,  and  allured  her 
To  a  hillock's  rocky  crest  hard  by,  to  view, 
If  possible,  the  spot  contentious  where 
Warring  discord  waved  his  naming  brand  ;  where 
Freemen's  hands  fraternal  were  in  kindred  gore 
Being  imbrued.     For  she,  long  hidden  from 
The  busy  world  in  her  elysian  home, 

Knew  not  what  misfortune's  cloud  o'ershadowed 
5 


50  DAISY   SWAIIST, 

Then  her  sunny  plain  and  leafy  bowers, 
Wherein  some  sixteen  joyous  springs  she'd  past, 
Unknown  to  woes  and  cank'ring  tortures  keen. 

Thence  far  across  the  Shenandoah  plain, 
Looming  o'er  its  richly-cultured  fields, 
She  saw  the  smoke  of  battle  curling  rise 
In  clouds  beneath  the  sun  that  fiery  glared, 
On  her  astonished  sight,  through  a  black'ning  pall, 
Which  rose  up  from  the  scene  of  carnage.     Wrapt 
In  amazement,  she  wondered  at  the  sounds 
The  battle  storm  awoke,  and  why  they  roared 
Unabated  through  the  peaceful  valley. 

Ah  !  she  little  dreamt  that  then  the  reign  of 
Peace  and  order  in  the  North  and  South  had  been 
Overthrown  ;  that  'twas  the  unhallowed  work 
Of  bold,  bad  men,  compelled  to  relinquish 
Their  high  seats  in  senate  halls  ;  and  others 
Who  long  nursed  in  hot-beds  of  human  fraud 
And  folly,  had  nearly  all  their  life-long  lives 


-  THE   FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.  51 

Devoted  their  time  and  talents  to  grasp 
The  nation's  spoils  and  tamper  with  its  laws  ; 
That  Columbia's  realms,  once  free  to  all 
Mankind  in  language,  conscience,  creed — domains 
Extending  from  New  Hampshire's  snow-capped 

cliffs, 

As  far  as  California's  golden  shores, 
Wherein  blest  content,  prosperity,  and 

« 

Holiest  liberty  all  fraternal  dwelt, 

"Were  then  ruled  by  usurpation's  edicts, 

More  galling  to  a  people  free  than  any 

Arrogant  ukase  of  a  tyrant  proud, 

Who  trembles  night  and  day  upon  his  throne. 

At  length  the  din  of  battle  paused  upon 

Her  ears.     Twilight  shadows  round  her  gathered  ; 

And  setting  sun-beams  faintly  gleamed  upon 

A  rolling  cloud,  whose  ruffled  crest,  bright  plumed 

With    crimson    tints,   passed    o'er    her.      Thus 

forewarned 
Of  night  approaching  the  shadowy  rock, 


62  DAISY   SWAIN, 

On  which  she  sat,  up  she  quickly  rose,  and 
Down  through  the  hillside's  winding  paths  she  ran 
Towards  the  cot. 

Scarce  had  she  neared  a  glade, 
Ere  she  heard,  upon  the  evening  wind,  screams 
Of  woe.     Bewildered  quite,  she  quickly  turned 
Around  and  gazed  about,  above,  below  ; 
Peeped  through  the    murky  glare    of    eve,   but 

nothing 

Saw  of  life.  Then  she  wondered  whence  the  sound 
Arose,  and  what  it  could  have  been  :  listen'd 
Like  a  hare  startled  by  game-dogs  on  the  scent  : 
Still,  all  was  silent  round,  save  the  rustling 
Of  leaves,  the  barking  of  tree-toads,  whimp'ring 
Of  bats,  and  the  incessant  buzz  of  insects, 
Holding  their  nocturnal  jubilees. 

So,  she  fancied  that  the  wail  she  heard  was 
Perhaps  a  catbird's  woful  mew,  and  hastened 
On  again  along  her  woodland  way.  But  ere 


THE  FLOWER   OF   SHE1STAKDOAH.  53 

Her  nimble  feet  had  measured  paces  few, 

The  groan  again,  more  agonizing  still, 

Burst  on  her  ears.      Appalled  at  the  sound,  she 

shrank, 

Like  the  tendrils  of  a  fragile  flower 
In  a  chill  autumnal  gust  of  wind,  still. 
Soon  her  doubting  fears  were  gone  ;  as,  she  knew 
Full  well  that  such  a  sad  lament  could  only 
From  a  human  soul  distressed  issue. 

Then,  soon, 

Compassion  moved  her.     Through  a  willow  copse 
She  hied,  slow  pacing  cautiously,  and  reached 
The  margin  of  the  stream  where  lay  half  dead, 
The  wounded  soldier.     Soon  the  tender  fair  one 
Tremblingly  bent  o'er  him  and  closely  scann'd 
Him  with  her  pity-gleaming  eyes.     She  saw 
The  light  of  life  still  flickered  in  his  heart ; 
But  wav'ring  on  the  balance  side  of  death 
"Whose  shadow  glimly  danced  upon  his  features, 

Which  in  their  livid  aspect  seemed  to  her 
5* 


64 

So  beautiful,  so  mild.     Then,  with  mute  surprise, 
She  viewed  his  anguished  mien,  and  wound  all 

bare  : 

And  dropt  in  cleansing  tears,  the  limpid  chlorine 
Of  her  soul,  upon  his  bleeding  scar. 
A  transitory  smart  he  felt.     He  muttered 
"  Oh  !"  and  casting  up  his  glassy  eyes,  he  saw, 
Low  bending  o'er  him,  so  grateful  m  the  gloom, 
And  all  compassionate,  the  maiden  fair  in 
White  robe  meekly  clad. 

"  O  Heavenly  Father ! 
"What  angel  from  thy  throne  of  glory  hath 
Fled,  to  chant  the  sad  requiem  o'er  my  cold  clay  ?" 
He  cried.     "  One  whom  a  ruling  Providence 
Hath  hither  sent,  the  friendless  to  befriend, 
The  helpless  to  save,"  she  cried  :  saying  which, 
She   brushed  the   matted   locks   back   from   his 

brow. 

Then,  she  from  her  side  a  napkin  took, 
Saturated  o'er  with  dew,  and  with  it  laved 


THE  FLOWER   OF   SHENANDOAH.  55 

His  pallid  brow ;    his  parched  lips  moistened ; 

plucked 

A  plantain  leaf  which  on  the  streamlet's  margin 
Grew,  and  with  its  cooling  texture  improvised 
A  bandage  for  his  wound  ;  then  tied  it  with 
A  ringlet  of  her  auburn  hair. 

Meanwhile, 

She  made  his  prospects  of  recovery  bright ; 
Told  him,  that  not  far  from  thence  safe,  nestled 
In  a  grove,  he  would  within  her  father's  cot 
A  refuge  find.     This  cheering  hope  his  soul 
Elated.     Forthwith  his  glad  heart  urged  his  hand 
To  be  extended  to  the  gentle  maid. 
She  took  it  kindly  in  her  own  and  raised, 
With  all  the  strength  her  fragile  structure  had, 
Him  from  the  blood-stained  ground.     Faltering, 
He  leaned  his  right  arm  on  her  shoulder.    Halting 
At  alternate  steps  to  breathe.     Well  she  bore 
The  burden  of  his  weight,  without  a  murmur, 
With  maidenly  resolution  all  the  way 


56  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Thro'  thicket  paths,  'cross  glades  ;  guided  only 
By  the  light  which  faintly  glimmer'd  from  the  cot. 

Then,  soon  before  its  wicket  gate  they  stood. 
Quick  the  maiden  pushed  it  open  ;  as  quick 
Upon  its  thongs  elastic  back  it  swung, 
And  grated  harshly  on  the  latch.     The  pointer 
Barked  and  quickly  scented  the  stranger  ;  while 
The  father  to  his  feet  started  up,  grasped 
His  gun,  and  to  the  door  ran  just  as  she  knocked. 
The  gentle  tap  he  knew  came  from  his  daughter. 
Quick  the  door  flew  back,  creaking  on  its  hinges, 
Upon  the  threshold  stood  the  anxious  father, 
With  extended  arms  to  clasp  his  daughter  ; 
But  back  a  pace  he  bounded,  as  his  eyes 
In  started  sockets  stared  upon  his  child, 
All  fagged,  all  faint,  with  the  feeble  soldier. 

Soon  the  mute  appeal  of  Athol's  wound  went 
To  the  parents'  hearts.     Warm  commiseration 
Thawed  from  out  their  breasts  the  icy  chill  of  fear, 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENAKDOAH.  57 

As  they  soon  placed  him  on  a  mattress  near 
Some  hick'ry  faggots  blazing,  a  helpless, 
But  a  welcome  guest  beneath  their  roof. 

O'er 

His  prostrate  form  they  hung  in  speechless  trance, 
And  gazed  in  artless  grief  upon  the  gash 
A  bayonet's  point  had  in  his  right  arm 
Punctured.     Quickly,  from  the  orifice  of 
The  ugly  scar,  the  mother  cleansed  with 
Water  warm,  the  fetid  pulse  that  flowed  ; 
Then,  with  a  linen  bandage,  moisten'd  o'er 
With  arnica,  the  wound  she  neatly  bound 
Within  its  styptic  folds,  and  left  it  so  ; 
To    nature's    healing    care    and    time    for    due 

amendment. 
This    done,  the    daughter   from   her    mother's 

hand — 

The  one  nearest  her  sympathetic  heart — 
Took  a  strength'ning  draught ;  a  potent  febrifuge 
And  charmed  carminative  it  was,  most 


58 


DAISY   SWAIN, 


Happily  blended,  and  gave  it  to  him 
In  doses  small,  but  oft. 


In  due  time,  it  soothed 
His  fevered  brain,  allayed  his  burning  thirst, 
Stopped  his  stifled  moans  of  anguish  ;  and  caused 
In  the  accelerated  current  of 
His  blood,  health,  that  had  in  his  faint  nature 
Dormant  lain,  to  mount  up  to  his  bloodless  cheeks, 
And  flush  them  with  returning  vigor's  hue. 


THE  FLOWEK  OF   8IIENANDOAH.  59 

Then  the  bland  and  soothing  influence  of 
Sleep  crept  into  his  wakeful  mind  ;  and  deep 
From  the  living  world  his  thoughts  immersed  in 
Her  somniferous  dews. 

Thus,  in  soft  composure 

Wrapt,  the  parents,  as  they  to  their  rest  retired, 
Prayed  that  Athol's  future  hardships  might  be 
Few  ;  and  bade  their  willing  daughter  keep 
Her  midnight  vigil  near  his  couch  ;  raise, 
When  the  fond  task  required,  his  wounded  arm  ; 
To  prop  his  drooping  head  upon  the  pillow  ; 
And  wait  upon  her  suffering  friend  as 
For  a  loving  brother's  pains. 


CHAPTEK    IV. 


$thol  tells  the  (ftottage^s  the  Jtotfg  of  his  Life  — 
$is  Convalescence  and  his  &>ove  of 


AT  early  dawn  the  wounded  Federal, 

Much  improved  in  health  and  quite  refreshed  in 

Spirits  from  his  night's  repose,  awoke  ;  and  glad 

Was  he  to  find  himself  so  near  kind  friends. 

Especially  his  frail  rescuer,  who 

Then  stooped  o'er  him,  with  helping  hands  and 

raised 

Him  on  his  pallet  soft.     He  knew  no  balsam 
For  his  pains  and  aches  more  sanative  than 
The  soothing  office  in  which  she  was 
Engaged,  and  thanked  her  for  the  kind  attention 
She  had  rendered.     Daisy  curtseyed  low   and 

said  : 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENAUDOAH.  61 

That  both  her  mother  dear  and  father  had 
Taught  her,  long  since,  the  divine  injunction, 
"  To  do  good  to  others  forget  not ;" 
And  never,  when  want  and  suffering  implored 
Her  kind  assistance,  to  withhold  relief. 

As  the  impressive  tones  on  Athol's  ears 
Fell  from  her  lips,  his  head  reclined,  entranced 
With  dreamy  thought,  which  Daisy  soon  observed  : 
But  she  knew  not  what  was  passing  through  his 

mind, 
Nor  why  hope's  inward  beam  his  count'nance 

brighten'd ; 

For  her  gladsome  gaze  was  too  intently 
Fixed  upon  his  handsome  face,  admiring 
The  graceful  contour  of  its  features,  which, 
In  his  pride  of  youth,  show'd  her  that  scarce  had 
Twenty  summers'   blooms   their   roseate   honors 

shed 
Upon  his  head. 


62  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Then  God's  voice  persuaded 
Him  to  prayer  ;  and,  in  a  benediction 
Which  he  gave,  he  prayed  that  Heav'n  kind  would 

watch 

The  generous  streams  which  flowed  so  purely 
In  their  hearts,  from  being  corrupted  by 
Misfortune's  turgid  dregs. 

Meantime,  all  the  folks 
With  Athol's  modest  mien  enraptured  felt ; 
Yet  wondered  why  a  youth  so  devout  of  heart 
Was  in  soldier's  garb  bedeck'd.     But  they  soon 
Dispelled   the  doubt  which   then    their  minds 

engross'd ; 

For  they  saw,  in  his  ingenuous  looks, 
Bland  and  affable  deportment,  it  was 
Easy  to  address  him  on  the  subject 
Of  his  life  and  ventures.     So  them  he  soon 
Enlighten'd  ;  closely  they  gather 'd  round  him, 
And  with  mute  attention  drank  his  accents 
As  he  spoke. 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENAKDOAII.  63 

He  first,  with  measured  terms, 
Denounced  the  political  fomenters  of 
The  North  and  South  :  told  how  they  had  incited 
The  rebellion,  and  brought  the  country,  then,  to 

such 

A  pass  with  their  mad  schemes  for  fame  and  pelf  : 
Related,  from  the  day  his  patriot  heart 
First  burned  with  martial  fire  to  do  battle 
For  his  country,  the  warlike  incidents  of 
His  soldier  life  :  told  how  high  his  feelings 
Kan,  unbiass'd  by  sect  or  party,  with  love 
Of  duty  to  the  cause  of  Union,  right 
Or  wrong  ;  that,  being  one  of  the  first  aroused, 
He  joined  a  gallant  legion  of  the  North, 
One   thousand   strong,  all  fine  picked  men,  and 

march'd 

Unflinching  to  the  strife,  to  overpower 
The  rebel  chief's  deluded  myrmidons  ; 
To  curb  the  proud,  defiant  spirit  of 
The  would-be  king,  who,  in  his  haughty  pride, 
Wish'd  to  sit  enthroned  amid  his  slaves  ;  but  that 


64  DAISY  SWAIN, 

The  North  had  so  far  baffled  his  ambition  : 
That  his  Confed'racy  was  but  parchment, 
Which  would,  ere  long,  be  all  ablaze  and  scatter'd 
To  the  four  winds  of  earth  in  charred  tinder  : 
And  that  the  arch-traitor  would  himself,  like 
A  rabid  dog,  be  driven  in  a  hole 
Obscure,  and  kept  there  till  remorse  and  grief 
Devour'd  him,  for  the  murd'rous  butcheries 
He  had  caused,  the  widows  and  the  orphans 
He  had  made. 

Athol,  then,  recounted  o'er 
What  risks  and  dangers  he  had  undergone  ; 
How  oft  they'd  met  the  foe,  and  routed  him 
Through  woods,  down   dales,  'cross  floods,  and 

over 

Eidges  blue  of  Virginia  ;  till,  elated 
By  so  much  success,  they  one  day,  while 
Pushing  their  course  on  thro'  the  Shenandoah, 
Were  met  by  the  enemy  reinforced 
With  many  battalions  strong  ;  and  in  which 


THE   FLOWER   OF   SHENANDOAH.  65" 

Encounter,  for  the  first  time,  the  hot  tide 

Of  battle  turn'd  against  them  ;  then  described 

How  they  stood  the  shock  of  kindred  hosts,  durin  j 

Full  six  hours  its  seething  lava  rolled. 

"Yet,"  he  cried,  "altho'  the  North-men  brave  fell 

Fast  and  thick  around  us,  still  we  felt  embolden'd 

By  our  other  deeds  triumphant,  that  we'd  gain 

The  fight ;  but  the  unequal  prowess 

Of  intrepid  Jackson  on  our  right, 

Turned  the  fortunes  of  the  day  against  us  ; 

And  thousands  now  of  our  brave  boys  lie 

Stiff  and  black  upon  that  bloody  field. 

Terror-stricken,  the  remnant  of  our  corps, 

Then  fled,  pell-mell,  in  all  directions  ; 

And  I  likewise,  wounded  as  you  see,  took  flight. 

But,  it  seemed  that  I,  alas  I  was  doomed  to  meet 

A  fate  worse  than  that  which  I  had  then  escaped  : 

To  fall  upon  the  road  and  die,  a  prey 

To  craving  hunger,  thirst,  and  loss  of  blood. 

But  your  noble  daughter — God  bless  her— chanced 

To  hear  my  groans  ;  came  where  I  dying  lay  , 
6* 


*66  DAISY  SWAITT, 

And,  touched  with  pity  at  my  hurts,  my  moans, 
And  aggravated  feverish  fits,  minister'd, 
With  her  cheering  voice,  sweet  consolation 
To  me,  just  as  I  of  hope  was  nigh  bereft. 
Then,  all  gentleness  and  patient  meekness, 
Here  my  guiding  angel  brought  me. 

Then  as 

Athol  panting  heavily,  paused  to  gain  his  breath, 
The  daughter,  in  the  meantime,  thought  it  strange 
He'd  left  his  home,  his  friends  and  kindred,  and 

asked 

Him,  with  tones  persuasive,  if  his  mother 
Had  not  bade  him  stay  at  home  to  comfort  her 
Kather  than  to  risk  his  life  in  battle. 

"  She  did  and  said  :  '  Dear  Athol,  be  not  rash, 
You're  too  young  yet  to  cope  with  stalwart  men 
Inured  to  camp  life,  whose  trade  it  is  to  spill 
Their  fellow  mortals'  blood,  when  passions  rife 
Contending,  bid  them  strike  each  other  with 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.  67 

Vile  implements  of  death.     Why,  then,  do  you, 
Athol,  so  young  and  innocent,  desire  to  swell 
These  hordes  of  harden'd  men,  perchance 
To  make  your  mother  a  childless  parent, 
For  her  with  tears  maternal  to  bewail 
In  aged  widowhood,  your  dear  loss,  when 
Here  at  Home,  you've  health,  rest,  and  ev'ry  com 
fort.'  " 

Then,  the  emotions  strong  in  Athol's  heart, 

Forced,  from  its  clear  springs,  feeling  tears  to  gush 

Into  his  eyes.     A  nervous  tremor  shook 

His  frame.     He  back,  exhausted,  on  his  pallet  fell, 

Quite  overcome,  and  wept  in  his  despair, 

That  p'rhaps,  he'd  ne'er  again,  upon  this  earth,  see 

His  fond  parent  more. 

Touched  at  such  a  sight, 
Tears  warm  and  sympathetic  glistened  in 
The  old  folks'  eyes.      His  grief  their  daughter's 

bosom 

6* 


68 


DAISY 


With  compassion  moved.     Soon  at  his  side, 
His  tender  friend  to  pain  stooped  near  him  ;  and, 
"With  her  sweet  condoling  breath,  she  whispered 
In  his  ear,  the  sovereign  balm  of  hope,  to  heal 
His  lacerated  heart.     He  heard  her  voice,  looked 
Up,  and  saw  the  cherub  bending  o'er  him. 
Soon  the  cheering  soul-light  of  her  eyes  absorb'd 
The  grieving  streams  which  coursed  his  anguish'd 
cheeks, 


THE   FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.  69 

And  lighten'd  up  his  abject  mind.     From  the 
Earliest  to  the  latest  hour  the  dear  fond  girl 
Her  friend's  kind  wishes  blest.     He  tasted  in 
The  soothing  draughts  she  gave,  her  mingled  sweets 
Of  soul,  and  drank  affection,  full  of  hope, 
In  every  drop  that  'suaged  his  pains. 

So,  as 

Time  roll'd  on,  Athol's  frame  evinced  contempt 
Of  death  ;  and,  ere  a  month  elapsed,  the  tide  of 
Life,  full  high,  in  the  crooked  channels  of  his  veins, 
Return'd  its  purple  flood.     Restored  at  last, 
He  from  his  ailing  couch  arose,  renewed 
In  lease  of  days  and  years,  quite  sound  in  health, 
In  spirits  buoyant ;  but  with  a  sensation 
In  his  heart  unfelt  ere  he  became  thus 
Convalescent.     A  sacred  charm  it  was  ; 
Supremely  divine  ;  so  soul  entrancing  ; 
But  quite  mysterious  in  its  strange  effects 
Thro'  all  his  being  :  but  especially, 
Did  young  Athol,  when  his  benefactress 


70  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Stood,  so  kind,  so  fair  and  pure  before  him, 
"With  her  brow  serene  as  the  effulgent  moon 
Beaming  down  thro'  Heaven's  blue  dome,  keenly 
Feel,  in  his  warm  heart,  that  inward  pleasure. 

Was  it  the  grateful  services,  which  in 
His  hours  of  sickness,  her  gentle  hand  had 
Render'd  ?  that  which,  day  after  day,  he  blest  ? 
The  one,  which  from  the  cold  damp  ground,  had 

raised 

His  drooping  head  and  bound  with  fingers  fair 
His  wound  ?  which  smoothed  his  pillow  ?  which 

prescribed, 

In  that  propitious  hour,  the  remedy 
Whose  potent  agency  within  his  frame, 
Made  his  soul  feel  loath  to  leave  its  feeble  house 
Of  clay,  that  caused  the  glow  within  his  breast  ? 

Was  it  her  graceful  form  and  beauty  rare  ? 
Her  dulcet  voice  that  softly  syllabled 
Sweet  Bible  stories,  and  sang  in  accents 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENANDOAH.  71 

Toned  divinely,  choice  psalmody,  which  had 
In  Athol's  hours  of  fevered  sleeplessness  lull'd 
His  throbbing  brain  to  rest  ?   or  was  it  the  power 
Of  Daisy's  pity,  that  in  Athol's  heart, 
Had  softly  struck  the  mute  accord  of 
Sympathy  divine  ? 

Such,  in  truth,  it  was  ; 
For  the  compassion  of  his  cherubim  had 
In  his  heart  enkindled  the  pure  flame  of 
Love  :  for  gratitude  begets  love  ;  and  when  both 
Are  happily  in  women's  heart  combined, 
What  panacea  so  potent  to  remove 
The   anguish'd  bosom's  pain,  to   raise  the  head 

weigh'd 
Down  with  cares,  and  solace  give  unto  life's  woes  ? 

Athol,  then,  the  more  he  saw  the  maid,  became 
Enamored  with  her  sprightly  comeliness  ; 
"With  her  spirit  beneficent,  and  with 
The  beam  celestial  which  sparkled  brightly 


72  DAISY   SWAIN, 

In  the  light  blue  eyes  of  Daisy  :  for  lie  saw 

The  beam  of  truth  in  her  heart  illumed 

Her  cheeks  with  virtue's  flame.     In  her  presence 

He  would  quite  forget  his  past  disaster, 

And  seldom  thought  that  he  had  peril'd  death 

Upon  the  field  of  slaughter,  so  overjoyed 

Was  he,  that  he  felt  he  could  in  seas  of 

Carnage  wade,  aye,  a  thousand  dangers  brave, 

To  pin  so  fair  a  jewel  to  his  heart, 

And  keep  the  precious  treasure  there  for  life. 

So,  thus,  while  the  maid  in  Athol's  bosom 
Was  the  only  bliss  ;  the  only  vision  that 
Beguiled  his  mind  ;  the  sole  angel  who  came 
To  cheer  him  in  death's  dread  hour  :  his  treasure 
Barest  that  moved  his  bosom  with  the  throb 
Of  fond  affection.     Daisy,  herself,  felt  swayed 
By  some  resistless  influence  in  his  soul. 
'Twas  the  same  power  which  she'd  infused  in  his 

heart, 
That  in  her  own  rebounded,  and  there  found 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHETsTANDOAH.  73 

Its  sweet  abiding  place  ;  strange  affinity 
That  tied  their  two  souls  with  dearest  amity  : 
For  the  more  he  amended,  the  more  she  droop'd. 
Alternate  gay  and  pensive  were  her  looks. 
Her  languishing  mien  evinced  her  heart  was 
Fraught  with  love,  which  Athol  saw  and  heard 

breathe 

In  her  tender  sighs  ;  and  knew  her  condolement 
Was  the  purest  emblem  of  a  constant  mind  ; 
That  her  modest   sweetness  showed  her  virgin 

soul  : 

And  that,  although  her  tongue  was  then  too  coy 
To  breathe  the  tender  vow,  yet  her  silence 
"Was  but  the  dumb  rhetoric  of  her  heart, 
More  eloquent  of  love  than  her  sweet  tones  could 

lisp. 

His  fond  gaze  likewise  made  her  looks  obey 
Her  passion's  impulse,  burning  in  her  heart, 
So  fervently  ;  as  it  summoned  the  blush, 
Which  her  chaste  bosom  wore,  to  carminate, 

As  like  a  peach's  rind,  her  modest  cheeks. 

7 


74  DAISY  SWAIN. 

'Twas  thus  that  her  affection  for  Athol 
Her  affliction  became  ;  for,  when  he  had 
Kecovered  to  that  normal  state  which  makes 
Health  laugh  at   death,   she  leaner  grew,    and 

proved, 

By  her  pallor  and  sigh  spontaneous, 
The  hidden  pow'r  which  he  exerted  o'er  her. 
To  him,  in  short,  a  thousand  nameless  actions, 
Spoke  the  evidence  of  a  tender  wound 
In  her  breast.     Thus  did  the  dominant  passion 
That  sways  the  world  entire,  enchain  the  hearts 
Of  both  the  rescued  and  the  rescuer. 


CHAPTEK    V. 


(pue^illas 


Alteration. 


ONE  bright  morn  as  the  lovers  near  the  cot 
Breathed  forth  their  vows,  Athol,  in  his  own,  took 
Daisy's  hand,  and  pressed  it  tenderly  ;  drew 


78 

Her  to  his  breast  and  sigh'd  within  her  ear 

t' 
The  ardent  nature  of  his  love.     Pallid 

Spread  her  rosy  cheeks.  She  trembled,  and  'gainst 

Her  restraint,  hung  down  her  head  in  silence. 

Athol,  whose  heart  was  full,  stood  mute  awhile. 

He  scarce  knew  what  to  say,  and  deeply  sigh'd  : 

But  dared  at  length  his  passion  to  reveal. 

He  told  her  that  he  much  admired  her  from 

The  time  her  eyes  first  on  him  gazed,  and  that 

He  then  adored  her  fondly,  so  much  so, 

A  king  his  bliss  might  envy  ;  that,  if  she  were 

His  own,  a  soldier's  and  a  lover's  soul 

She'd  crown  ;  that  when  his  term  of  service  ended, 

He'd  hail  her  as  his  future  bride  ;  united, 

Blest  with  her,  in  bitter  winds  of  winter, 

And  in  snow's  incessant  fall,  in  ev'ry 

Vernal  hour  he'd  with  her  live  forever, 

• 
Her  heart's  true  partner. 

Now,  what  a  shock  was 
That  to  one  whose  bosom  was  susceptible 


THE  FLOWER   OF   SHENANDOAH.  77 

And  tender;  soon  her  head  reclined  all 

Pensive,  which  betrayed  that  something  undefined 

Was  working  in  her  mind.     Some  affliction 

That  spoke  her  sadden'd  thoughts,  tho'  mute  her 

voice. 

In  that  still  mood,  she  seem'd  so  like  a  bird 
Allured,  pent  up  in  a  cage  with  her  captor 
Near  her,  enamored,  patiently  gazing, 
And  awaiting  its  dulcet  strains  to  hear. 
As  he  then  did  the  sanction  of  her  smile. 
So,  in  brief  time,  from  his  panting  heart,  she 
Raised  her  drooping  head,  and  with  her  face 
Upturned,  threw  her  radiant  eyes,  bedimm'd  with 

tears, 
Full  on  his  own. 

She  told  him  that  'twere  worse 
Than  death  from  him  to  part ;  that  a  prey  she'd 
Be  to  separation's  pain  and  sorrow  ; 
That  none  could  comfort  her  but  him  ;  then  said  : 

"  Alas !  when  thou  art  gone,  foul  darkness  will 

7* 


78  DAISY   SWAI1ST, 

Be  seen  where  once  thy  lightsome  footstep  shone." 
Then  she  hinted  fears  that,  he  now  being  well, 
Would  forever  leave  her  in  affliction, 
And  bade  him,  strenuously,  to  stay  with  her, 
Where  peace  and  undivided  love  reposed. 

But  when  Athol  heard  her  fear-fraught  words,  he 
Swore  he'd  never  from  his  plighted  faith  depart  : 
That  sacred  was  his  word  :  his  mind  too  pure 
And  high  :  his  heart  too  merciful  and  just ; 
In  short,  an  honorable  youth  he  was, 
And  loath'd  the  very  name  of  infamy  : 
That  naught  within  the  wide  world  could  seduce 
Him  from  her,  from  truth,  nor  rectitude. 
Then  he  told  her  that,  although  he'd  suffer'd 
From  an  outward  wound — a  bloody  gash,  that 
He  then  suffer'd  from  an  inward  pang, 
A  heart-bruise  deep,  which  naught  could  heal  save 

but 
Its  kind  : — "  the  tyrant  god  which  thro'  the  world 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.  79 

Koams  free,  and  robs  its  victims  of  their  peace 
And  liberty." 

Then  Daisy  looking  up 
With  aspect  mild,  all  inexpressive  grace, 
Her  countenance  beaming  with  approving  smiles, 
Which  showed  that  Athol  had  with  tones  un 
daunted         * 

Sued  her  not  in  vain,  gladly  promised 
To  commit  her  hand  forever  to  his  trust. 
Athol  then  upon  the  head  of  his  betrothed 
Called  Heaven's  blessings  down,  and  sealed  his  faith 
With  kisses  on  her  dimpling  cheek  ;  gave  her 
From  vest  pocket,  his  own  portrait  color'd, 
Which  she  kissed  with  ardor  sweet,  and  said;  "ah! 
Thy  much-loved  image,  Athol,  in  my  heart  shall 
Be  enshrined,  by  friendship  guarded  until 
Life  is  gone,  as  I  feel  assured  thou  hast 
Indeed  an  upright  heart,  a  fervent  soul, 
And  temper  gen'rous — jewels  which  fame  nor 
Gold  can  buy." 


80  DAISY   SWAIN, 

So,  when  the  sullen  clouds  of  doubt 
Flit  from  her  mind,  hope's  bright  sunshine  Daisy's 

thoughts 

Illumined  and  stamped  its  vignette  bloom  upon 
Her  cheeks.     With  unmixed  ardor  in  her  heart 
She  hailed  the  joyous  day  when  hand  in  hand 
Together  she  would  with  her  Athol  walk 
On  sunny  paths,  and  rove  in  vemal  meads, 
Where  birds  and  bees  and  flowers  the  light  obey, 
And  to  their  happy  sights  their  silken  plumes 
Disclose.      For,   then,   no    frowning    clouds    she 

thought 

Were  in  the  sky,  ominous  of  fortune's  wrath, 
Would  cause  a  tear  of  agony  to  start  from 
Out  her  gladsome  bosom  ;  that  no  lightning 
Would  flash  and  strike  the  bliss  from  out  their 

barque 

Of  hope,  while  tossing  to  and  fro  on  life's 
Tempestuous  billow. 

'Twas  then  the  noontide  hour. 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH. 


81 


The  fluid  gold  of  light  down  from  its  throne 

Of  blue  began  to  sickly  gleam  upon 

The  mountain's  slope,  as  Athol  stood  prepared 

Upon  the  cottage  steps  to  take  his  leave. 

In  tearful  eyes,  the  old  folks  held  him  by 

The  hands  ;  and  much  regretted  that  they  were, 

So  soon,  deprived  of  their  companion — 


82  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Their  dear  daughter's  choice, — and  welcomed  him 

again, 

If  saved  while  warring  with  his  brethren  'gainst 
Traitors  armed  in  his  own  country  of  birth. 
Told  him,  too,  that  if  he'd  fall  defending 
His  dear  native  land,  they'd  bless  his  name  ;  but 
Hoped  that  God  would  spare  him. 

Then  Daisy  flung 

Her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  clinging  to  him 
Prayed,  as  on  he  moved  to  go,  that  for  the  love 
Of  God  and  her  he'd  soon  again  return. 
But,  while  Athol  on  the  door-step  stood  wiping 
From  his  humid  eyes,  the  parting  tear,  he  saw 
The  sunbeam  from  the  casement  faded  fast, 
And  heard  afar  deep-noised  rumbling  thunder  ; 
Saw  the  distant  light  grow  faint  and  sombre  ; 
And,  hov'ring  in  the  west,  that  thick,  dark  clouds 
Announced  a  hostile  sky  ;  that  a  storm  was 
Gathering.     Still  his  ardor  was  undaunted  : 
He  cared  not  for  the  thunder's  angry  voice, 


THE   FLOWEK  OF   SHENANDOAII. 

But  wish'd  to  hasten  thither  on  his  journey, 
To  report  at  Washington  for  duty. 


83 


But  just  as  he  pronounced  the  farewell  word 
"  Adieu,"  unusual  darkness  o'er  the  face 
Of  nature  spread.     A  vivid  flash  lit  up 
The  gloom.     On  through  the  immeasurable  void 


84 


Of  air,  the  war  of  elements  roared  and  made 
The  welkin  ring  tremendously. — A  flash — 
A  rattle, — down  burst  clouds  of  drenching  rain. — 
Fiercely  howled  the  wind  among  the  trees  ;  they 

groan'd — 

Strained  heavily  and  rustled  off  their  leafy  pride  : 
But  a  gust  still  more  powerful  wrenched  from 
Its  roots  an  aged  oak  which  grew  hard  by. 
The  crash,  the  old  man  startled  to  his  feet. 
Quickly  he  ran  to  the  window  to  see 
The  damage  done,  when  in  a  glaring  sheet 
Of  vivid  lightning  which  just  then  illumed 
The  dark  profound,  his  quick  eye  saw,  along 
The  hillside,  a  troop  of  mounted  horsemen 
All  drenched  unto  the  skin,  slowly  wending 
Their  way  onward  to'ards  the  cot. 

Foremost  in 

The  van,  a  stately  creature  tower'd,  bedecked 
Full  proud  in  coat  of  grey  all  button'd  up 
But  somewhat  faded  ;  for,  its  nap  appeared 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHE]* AND 0 AH.  87 

As  if  it  had  seen  many  dreary  seasons. 

Armed  he  was  from  the  saddle  to  his  teeth 

"With  revolvers  three,  a  sabre,  carbine, 

And  a  dirk,  showing  what  a  monster  of 

War  and  human  blood  was  he  ;  and  the  eye 

That  fiercely  rolled  beneath  the  knitted  brow 

Of  this  rough  type  of  man,  plainly  showed 

He  was  both  bloody  and  remorseless 

At  his  trade.     Has   nag,  likewise,  looked  mean, 

spare, 

Not  half  fed  ;  and  its  hide  and  harness  was 
With  mud  and  grease  and  lather  much  befouled. 

Soon  at  the  cottage  door  the  guerilla 
Pranced  his  jaded  steed,  and  deigned  to  knock. 

The  noise 

Of  such  a  rap  unusual  startled  all 
The  inmates  to  their  feet  at  once.     Quickly 
The  daughter  to  the  door  hastened,  and  with 
A  curt'sy  low  and  smile  serene,  welcomed 
From  the  fitful  wind  and  rain,  the  stranger. 


88  DAISY  SWAIK, 

The  inmates  all,  save  Athol,  looked  amazed 
Upon  his  gaudy  form,  from  the  knee-top  boots 
He  wore,  to  his  slouch  hat  by  tassel  girt. 
Then  soon,  kind  Keuben's  liberal  hand  took 
By  the  reins,  the  fellow's  neighing  palfrey, 
And  tied  it  to  a  hickory  post  close  by. 
As  kindly,  the  matron  spread  before  him 
A  meal,  of  which  he  heartily  ate,  eyeing, 
In  the  meanwhile,  the  federal  youth  disguised, 
Whom  he  pierced,  as  'twere  intuitively. 

<t 
So,  when  the  chief  his  appetite  appeased, 

He  hit  upon  a  theme  to  drag  to  light 

The  truth  he  thought  in  Athol  lay  concealed. 

" Kind  friends  of  peace,"  he  said,  "I  humbly  thank 

You.     May  your  happy  lives,  unsullied 

Flow  down  the  stream  of  time,  free  from  care  and 

pain. 

May  good  health  your  daily  walks  attend, 
And  cheerfulness  sit  smiling  on  your  brows." 
At  this,  all  but  Athol  him  their  thanks  return'd. 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENANDOAH.  89 

"  Think  not,  my  friends,"  lie  said,  "  that  I  speak 

In  this  vein  to  curry  favor.     No,  I'm 

Quite  averse  to  flatt'ry,  yet  ne'er  displease  ; 

And  have  a  soul  too  dignified  to  kneel 

And  servile  bend  for  selfish  motives.     These 

My  unobtrusive  nature  never  has  ; 

For,  truth  I  admire  undisguised,  and  scorn 

Concealment."     (Fixing  his  eyes  on  Athol.) 

"  Honest  ambition  is  my  only  pride, 

Which  I  hope  to  mark  along  with  other 

Valiant  heroes,  firm,  proud,  and  defiant, 

Who've  joined  the  cause  of  right  'gainst  usurp'd 

might, 

Contesting  every  inch  of  Southern  soil 
Against  the  pilf'ring  Yankees  :   those  minions 
Of  that  perjured  hypocrite  who  now  sits 
Upon  his  abolition  throne,  awing 
The  vulgar  North  to  his  way  of  thought,  while, 
We  of  the  South  brand  him  with  contempt  and 

* 

hate, 

And  spurn  his  mean  authority.     Tisn't 

7* 


90  DAISY   SWAIN, 

The  nature  of  the  Southern  heart  to  crouch 
Before  a  tyrant.     What !  the  pride  and  valor 
Of  the  chivalry  cringe  to  an  uncouth 
Abolitionist.     What  humiliation ! 
All  of  us  would  rather  see  the  fruitful  South 
One  vast  wilderness.     Aye,  e'en  suffer  death, 
Extermination  first,  before  we'd  stoop 
To  his  yoke.     No,  the  people  South  are  bound 
As  one  huge  bulwark  of  strength  to  defend 
Themselves  to  the  last  man  against  his  sway  ; 
Till  freedom's  banner,  the  stars  and  bars,  shall 
Wave  triumphantly  o'er  every  Slate  in 
The  Confed'racy." 

Then  Athol  to  his  feet 
Arose  and  cast  upon  the  rebel  braggart 
A   contemptuous   sneer,  and   said  with  warmth  : 

"  Sir, 

The  honor'd  President  elect  whom  you've 
Deprecated  vilely,  is  one  of 
The  greatest  men  of  modern  times.     Fate,  once  in 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.  91 

A  thousand  years,  scarce  gives  us  such  a  man. 

The  mental  calibre  that  he's  got 

Rarely  springs  from  out  the  dross  of  earth,  to  show 

The  world  Heaven's  model  of  a  statesman. 

With  such  a  giant  intellect  possess'd, 

He'd  rise  in  any  sphere  of  life  and  shine  ; 

As  the   aids  which  humbler  minds  require  he 

scorns. 

Being  a  ripe  scholar,  a  sage,  and  wit,  but 
No  pedant ;  no  display  he  makes  of  what 
His  mind  contains.     He's  too  retiring,  meek, 
Timid,  and,  I  may  say,  bashful,  to  parade 
His  learning.     Such  modesty  feeble  minds 
May  despise  ;  but  it  shows  his  profound  sense, 
And  proves  he  has  a  cultivated  mind. 
Nor  pomp  of  speech  has  he,  the  ignorant 
To  dazzle,  the  weak  dismay  :  his  words  are 
In  the  simplest  garb  arrayed,  and  full  of 
Thoughts  pregnant  with  truth  and  wisdom. 
Yet,  sometimes,  I'll  admit,  that  when  he  feels 
In  playful  humor  and  an  auspicious  chance 


Prompts  its  display,  he'll  tell  a  good  joke  ; 
But,  otherwise,  he's  a  man  of  feeling  ; 
His  heart  is  full  of  pity  for  his  kind  ; 
So  tender  at  times  that  his  sympathies 
Towards  the  human  race  are  so  great,  they  cause 
His  bosom  pain  ;  and  what  you  call  tyranny, 
Is  nothing  more  than  his  firmness  with  which 
He  guides  the  Senate  and  rules  the  States.     In 

short," 

Continued  Athol,  "  his  name  is  cherished 
In  ev'ry  loyal  heart,  who,  at  his  voice 
Commanding  them,   pour  out  their  blood  and 

treasure 

In  streams  abundant,  with  which  triumphant  yet 
He'd  crush  the  lawless  spirits  now  rampant 
In  the  trait'rous  South  ;  and  I,  as  one,  have, 
At  the  just  call  of  his  great  mind,  resigned 
Both  health  and  ease,  and  will  lay  down  my  life 
Itself  an  hostage  on  the  bloody  field, 
To  disenthrall  the  enslaved,  and  liberate 
The  free  from  the  fangs  of  your  cruel  chief, 


THE  FLOWER   OF   SHENANDOAH.  93 

Who,    both    white    and    black,    now    holds    in 

bondage, 
Ruling  and  ruining  them  remorselessly." 

Indignant  wrath  then  burned  in  Athol's  blood. 
He  dared,  scoffingly,  his  manly  spirit 
To  unfold,  and,  unrestrained,  continued  : 
"  But  well  yet  lower  the  lofty  pride  of 
That  pusillanimous  puke,  and  drive  him 
To  the  verge  of  hell,  where  fiery  dragons 
Him  will  sting  to  death,  ere  his  guilty  soul 
Falls  in  the  flames,  to  writhe  in  tortures  there 
Forevor  with  the  damn'd,  for  urging,  with 
His  barb'rous  will,  millions  to  fell  slaughter." 

This  roiled  the  rebel's  temper.     He,  angry, 
Made  with  his  clench'd  fist  a  thrust  at  Athol, 
Who  dext'rously  warded  off  the  blow  ; 
Then  to  the  door  ran,  with  mouth  all  foaming 
With  rage,   and    shouted    to    his    armed    band, 
"Foes— 


94  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Enemy — hither  hasten — quick."     Soon  they 
The  house  surrounded,  hooted,  halloo'd,  rushed 
Through  the  door,  and  like  hungry  tigers,  pounc'd 
Quite  furious  on  their  prey. 

Then  all  within 

The  cot  was  dire  confusion.     Bitterly 
The  mother  and  the  daughter  wailed.     Morose, 
The  guerilla  chief  jerked  the  old  man  up 
Off  his  knees,  and  "  villain,  traitor,"  term'd  him. 
While  with  abject  mien  and  supplication  low, 
Reuben  tried  to  melt  the  chieftain's  callous  heart, 
And  bade  him  listen  ere  he  claim'd  him  :  raised 
His  eyes  up  heav'nward,  and  told  him  he  was 
Innocent  :  implored  his  freedom  to  restore. 
While,  meantime,  Daisy  wrung  her  hands  with 

anguish  : 

In  mercy  lifted  up  her  voice  on  high  : 
Bent  her  knees,  and  murmuring,  bade  him  spare 
Her  father's  hoary  head  :  to  be  merciful 
And  just  for  the  sake  of  her  dear  mother, 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENATTDOAH. 


95 


Stricken  down  with  age,  who,  if  of  her  spouse 
Bereft,  wouldn't  live  to  see  the  morrow's  light, 
As  God  would  call  her  from  life's  checquered 

scenes. 

"  Thou  hast  the  power  to  wound  or  heal,  to  blight 
Or  bless  :"  but  all  was  dead  and  still  about 
The  chieftain's  heart — too  callous  and  to  all 
The  finer  feelings  cold.     Nor  even  could 


96  DAISY   SWAIN. 

The  nervous  tremor  of  her  hands,  that  clasp'd 
His  knees,  vibrate  soft  pity  to  his  heart. 
Nor  her  sighs,  nor  tears,  nor  accents  tender, 
Nor  e'en  the  melting  sweetness  of  her  eyes, 
Nor  their  fascinating  gaze,  from  which  the  heart 
Of  one  less  hard  would  sure  destruction  found. 
All  her  pleadings  were,  alas !  in  vain  ;  as 
The  bold  ruffians,  in  the  remnant  of  the  storm, 
Quickly  bore  their  captives  from  the  vale,  and 

thrust 
Them  in  a  loathsome  dungeon  South. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


Affliction  of  $aist}  —  ^he  Beath   of  both  hstf 


DOWN  beside  her  senseless  mother  Daisy 
Knelt,  and  loudly  called  to  Heaven  for  justice  ; 
Pour'd  forth  in  fervent  pray'r  that  mercy  yet 

Divine  might  smooth  the  captives'  way  —  vain  hope. 
9 


98  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Bitterly,  all  that  long  and  dreary  night, 

She  wept  her  father's  and  her  lover's  hapless  fates  ; 

And  when  the  next  day  serenely  dawn'd, 

It  brought  unto  her  mind  no  smiling  light, 

For,  joyless  all  the  live-long  day,  she  thought 

Of  them  o'erwhelm'd  by  tyranny  : 

Knelt,  with  her  heart  o'ercharged  with  woe,  and 

pray'd 

The  right'ous  soon  would  triumph  o'er  and  sink, 
To  fathomless  depths,  their  stern  oppressors  down  ; 
Hop'd  that  they'd  by  divine  vengeance  be  pursued  ; 
That  the  wrath  of  Heaven  would  upon  them 
Hurl  its  thunderbolts  and  doom  their  overthrow  ; 
Wish'd  her  aged  father  would  again  be 
Free  as  the  rolling  cloud,  enjoying  once  more 
The  blessings  of  liberty  ;  and  that  the  wind 
From  heaven,  unconfined,  would  soon  play  round 
Her  lover's  brow,  to  dare  again  the  foe, 
Till  vict'ry  crown'd  his  arms,  and  conquest,  with 
Renown,  his  freedom  brought.     For  she  knew  her 
Athol's  noble  heart  was  far  too  valiant 


THE  FLOWEK  OF   SHENANDOAH.  99 

To  shrink  from  treason-tainted  foes  ;  aye  scorn'd 
At  danger  ;  could  hear  taunts  and  wear  his  chains 
In  fetter'd  realms  like  a  Christian  martyr. 

But  such  hopes  her  mother's  mind  relief  denied  : 
Soon  reason  fled  her  fever'd  brain  ;  for  when 
By  her  injurious  foes  borne  down,  faint  she 
Lay  outstretch'd,  pale  nigh  breathless,  upon 
A  bed  of  anguish. 

Many  nights  Daisy 

Watch'd  with  glistening  eye  around  her  couch  ; 
And  heard,  in  her  mother's  stifling  moans,  death, 
In  fullness  of  glee,  with  bony  hands  twang'd 
At  her  heart-strings,  the  solemn  tones  which  tell 
Whe.re  the  broken  in  spirit  shall  go.     Yes, 
The  tale  is  told  :  hopeless  of  recovery 
Was  her  state  ;  for  soon  herweaken'd  lungs  closed 
Their  spongy  cells  against  the  air  of  life. 
A  sigh,  a  gasp,  a  rattle  in  her  throat  : 
Her  fitful  struggles  ceased,  and  all  was  still. 


100  .         DAISY   S 


Her  spirit  fled  its  earthly  confinement, 
And  soared  far  beyond  life's  narrow  bounds. 

If  ever  innocence  knew  distress  'twas  when 
Daisy,  bending  o'er  her  dying  parent, 
Heard  her  last  breath,  and  felt  her  heart  was  reft 
Of  life's  warm  beat.     In  her  deep  despair  she 
Trembling  knelt  beside  her.  deceased  mother  ; 
And  from  her  weeping  eyes  she  pour'd  upon 
Her  cold  remains  many  fond,  filial  tears. 
Then  she  raised  her  sorrowing  head  on  high, 
And  cried  aloud  :  "  To  thee,  Great  God  above,  let 
My  imploring  voice  ascend.     O  Lord  of 
Mercy  !  hear  my  prayer.     Thou  hast  the  power 
To  raise  or  quell  the  storm.    The  struggling  worm 
Thou  canst  protect.      Then,  O  Lord  of  Hosts  ! 

deign 
To    dispel    the    black'ning    gloom    which    now 

o'ershades 

The  future  of  a  helpless  orphan  just 
Deprived  of  fond  maternal  care.     Her  voice 


THE  FLO  WEE  '  OF 


That  once  impressed  celestial  precepts  on 

My  heart,  is  hush'd  in  death.    Nor  does  my  father 

Hear  his  suppliant  child  beseeching  Thy 

Benign  protection  :  for,  far  from  me,  alas  ! 

He  has  been  cruelly  torn,  and  futile  have, 

I  fear,  his  claims  for  mercy  been  ;  unfelt 

On  apathetic  hearts  his  pleading  soft  : 

Still  hearing  naught  but  insults  vile,  has  sank 

Beneath   oppression's  weight;   and  p'rhaps  his 

soul 

Has  from  its  earthly  cell  been  disencumber'd, 
And  upward  wing'd  its  way  to  heaven  for  peace, 
Leaving  me  an  orphan  here  forlorn,  the  sole 
Survivor  of  the  wreck." 

Too  true,  alas  ! 

Was  her  prediction  :  for,  unhappily, 
In  mouldy  dungeon  vilely  smear'd  with 
Damps  infectious,  her  father,  hopeless,  sleepless, 
Many  midnight  hours,  quickly  pined  beneath 

His  darksome  prison  roof  ;  and  while  he  droop'd 
9* 


102 


DAIS!    SWAIN, 


And  lonely  breath'd,  despairing  of  each  daylight's 

dawn, 

He  thought  that  safe,  secure,  tho'  far  away, 
All  whom  he  loved  remain'd  in  sunshine  bright. 

He  saw  his  white-washed  cot,  and  the  tall  trees 
Which  rose  above  it  proudly,  tinted  with 
The  beam.     Heard  the  gurgling  brook  meand'ring 


THE  FLO  WEE  OF   SHENAKDOAH.         103 

Past ;  and  fancied,  in  its  twirling  eddies, 
That  he  saw  the  trout  disport  :  his  daughter, 
Too,  quite  fair  ;  serene  as  mild  mid-noon  in 
Mayday,  sitting  on  its  green  bank  twining 
A  wreath  of  flow'rets  gay  with  which  to  crown 
Her  lover's  honored  brow,  in  token  of 
The  laurel  he  might  wear. 

But  yet,  he  knew, 

The  Fed'ral  then  with  circling  arms  did  not 
Her  slender  bosom  twine,  as,  like  himself,  he  pined 
In  dungeon  deep,  in  sad  captivity, 
Inly  mourning  the  loss  of  her  whom  his  soul 
Loved  best  on  earth. 

Then  forebodings  sad  soon 
Banish'd  from  his  mind  the  remember 'd  joys 
That  thronged  upon  his  soul     He  feared  and  wept 
To  think  that  both  his  wife  and  child  suffer'd  : 
Yet  still  at  intervals  he  felt  consolement 
In  the   thought    that   they  unshared   his  woes. 
Hoped 


104 


DAISY   SWAIN. 


And  prayed  that  no  dire  ills  hung  o'er  their  heads, 
And  that  his  wife  and  lovely  daughter  solely 
Mourn'd  his  loss  of  fondness.      This  'twas  that 

cheer'd 

Him  ;  for  a  degree  of  bliss  he  felt  in 
His  heart  that  he  might  see  them  soon  again. 
'Twas  but  a  mock'ry  of  joy,  as  forced  was 
The  glow  ;  ghastly  the  smile  ;  his  haggard  cheeks 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENAKDOAH.    105 

And  hollow  eyes  that  hope  destroyed.     For,  fast 
He  sank  :  and,  on  the  self-same  night  his  wife's 
Christian  spirit  fled  into  eternity, 
Death  freed  Eeuben  from  his  clanking  chains. 


CHAPTEB    VII. 

ilfunetjal  of  daisy's  J$othe*i — ^he  $ttjange  ^ieitoij. 

THE  decease  of  Daisy's  mother  caused  among 

The  neighbors  of  the  vale  a  holiday 

Of  grief.     Promptly,  the  solemn  call  of  death 

Brought  them  to  the  cot  where  they  found  Daisy, 

With  a  heavy  load  in  her  once  lightsome  heart, 

Sadly  bending  her  lithe  form  gently  o'er 

The  unconscious  relic  of  her  parent. 

As  she  her  drooping  head  raised  up  to  greet 
Them,  they  saw  how  changed  was  the  gay  flower, 
How  withered  in  its  charms  ;  how  doleful,  too, 
Was  her  low  voice  that  once  rang  through  the 

meads 

As  cheer'ly  as  the  morning  bird's  :  whilst  she, 
With  tearful  eyes,  the  tale  to  them  rehearsed 


THE  FLOWEK  OF   SHENANDOAII.         107 

How  of  father,  mother,  lover,  robbed  by 
A  band  of  ruthless  foes,  who  scorned  to  listen 
To  her  voice  that  sued  for  mercy,  but  mock'd 
Her  heart  so  rent  and  sorely  vexed  with  their 
Injustice. 

Some  with  their  indignant  tongues 
Branded  them  with  the  foul  names  of  scoundrel, 
Churls,  and  tyrants  cruel ;  whilst  others  'mong 
The  band  of  mourners  who  had  their  feelings 
Touched,  unrestrainedly,  their  sister  streams 
Of  pity  commingled  with  those  of  Daisy. 

Then,  as  with  one  voice,  they  all  together 
Offered  her  sweet  friendship's  balm  to  solace 
The  repining  sorrow  that  preyed  upon 
Her  heart. 

She  sigh'd  and  thank'd  them  as  they  all 
Around  her  mother's  bier  in  solemn  pray'r 
Familiar  knelt :  and  when  the  funeral  rite, 


108 


Impromptued  from  the  lips  of  a  rough  peasant, 
Was  ended,  silently  and  slow  the  corpse 
Was  borne  along  a  wild  landscape  and  laid, 
Down  in  its  narrow  bed,  dug  in  a  mound 
Which  nature  made. 

There,  at  her  mother's  shrine, 
'Neath  a  cypress,  whose  sombre  branches  waved 
With  sympathetic  sorrow  o'er  the  rude  slab 
Which  mark'd  her  earthly  resting  place,  Daisy, 
In  the  evening  starlight,  many  a  silent  hour 
Would  sit  and  watch  the  clouds  of  autumn  roll, 
And  tell  to  the  passing  winds  in  broken  sighs, 
The  death  of  father,  mother,  and  the  loss 
Of  love  and  friendship,  that  undiminished 
Yet  burn'd  in  her  lamp  of  hope,  fed  by  the  beam 
Of  faith  and  truth's  undoubted  ray. 

Yet,  at  times, 

She  feared  her  own  death  would,  ere  long,  com 
plete 


THE  FLOWER   OF   SHETJANDOAH.         109 

The  scene  ;  for,  in  her  breast  she  felt  a  cipher 
Writ  that  soon  her  earthly  form  she'd  yield  up 
To  the  God  of  nature,  to  undergo 
Creation's  change  :  as  the  blighting  grief 
In  her  heart  she  felt,  was  too  deep  for  the  rose 
On  her  cheek  to  re-blossom  more. 

"But  why 

Regret,"  she  said,  "  Heaven  may  yet  send  me 
A  cup  of  sweet  relief,  consecrated 
By  faith,  to  guide  my  inexperienced  youth 
Thro'  life's  thorny  ways.     Does  not  the  author 
Of  life  and  death  dispense  with  righteous  hands 
To  his  poor  creatures,  bliss  or  pain,  as  best 
Befits  them  ?     Surely,  then,  I  should  my  lot 
Endure  without  repining  :  for  metals 
Are  with  red  heat  refined  and  freed  from  dross. 
In  affliction's  burning  furnace  our  souls 
Are  purified  ;  and  if  we  can  resist 
Temptations,  which  are  but  the  devil's  tricks 

To  wean  us  from  the  Lord,  why,  surely,  futile 
10 


110  DAISY    SWAIN, 

Then  must  be  ev'ry  alluring  guise 
The  tempter  wears  to  snare  us  from  the  path 
Of  virtue,  and  blot  out  the  good  resolves 
That  love  for  the  All-powerful  once  hath 
Fixed  within  the  heart. 

In  her  breast  these  truths 
She  recorded,  then  from  her  pale  hands  raised 
Her  head  and  wander'd  to  the  blest  retreat, 
The  chosen  spot  of  love  ;  for  Athol's  nature 
At  her  heart-strings  yet  unalt'rable  play'd. 

"  Ah !  here  alas  !  how  often  have  our  hearts 
"With  mutual  endearment  entwined,  our  hands 
United  fondly.     O  hapless  object 
Now  of  my  distress,  thou  art,  perchance,  long 
Since  number'd  with  the  good.     Aye,  mute   thy 

tongue 

That  softly  sung  of  love.  Yet,  p'rhaps,  thou  liv'st  in 
Prison  languishing,  but  wearing  out  thy  chains 
With  hope  and  fortitude.     Ah !  Athol  dear, 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENA1SDOAH.        Ill 

Tho'  mountains  and  wide-spreading  plains  divide 
Us,  still  I  boast  a  privlege,  a  dear  one  : 
Fancy  wafts  me  to  thy  arms.     Yet,  oh  !  if  thou 
Wert  here,  how  much  lighter  would  my  burdens  be/ 
Such  were  the  thoughts  sad  Daisy  spoke,  while 

gazing 

O'er  the  fair  scenes  of  soft  delight,  where 
At  the  sequester'd  spot  she  linger'd  till 
The  evening's  breeze  in  fitful  gusts  began 
To  moan  among  the  leaves,  and  mountain  clouds 
Around  the  place  a  dusky  shade  diffused. 
Thus  night  being  close  at  hand,  dispelled  from 
Her  mind  the  train  of  placid  thoughts  and  warn'd 
Her  hence. 

Soon  upon  the  breeze  she  heard  the  tramp 
Of  horse — affright'd  ran — reach'd  the  cot — turn'd 

round, 

And  saw  a  shadowy  form  hard  by,  hovering 
Near.     Quick  the  door  she  shut ;  but  soon  a  rap 
Vibrated  on  her  startled  ear.     Trembling, 


112 


She  thro'  the  window  gazed  alarmed,  and  thought 
She  saw  the  chieftain  returned  back  to  burn 
The  cot,  as  twilight  shadows  veiTd  the  man, 
And  made  his  garb  appear  like  gray. 

Now  listen 

To  her  mind  by  prudence  temper'd,  her  caution 
Spoke  with  earnest  warmth.     "  Who  in  evening's 

mantle 
Sombre  wrapt  comes  here  ?"     "  A  friend,"  was  the 

response. 

"  A  friend,  forsooth !  at  such  an  hour !   Perchance 
A  foe,  as  none  but  the  intrusive  would 
Invade  a  lonely  maiden's  sanctuary  : 
None  but  the  designing  prowl  about  in 
Gloomy  shades  of  night,  dark  deeds  to  do, 
In  order  that  their  evil  work  may  the 
Mortal  eye  elude,  and  you  seemed  fashioned 
For  no  good  intent." 

"  Call  not  suspicion 
To  your  mind,  lone  maid  ;  I'm  not  on  mischief 


THE  FLOWEK  OF  SHEKANDOAH.         113 

Bound.     Heaven  is  my  witness.     My  mission 
Is  a  holy  one,  and  needs  precaution. 
To  guard  against  impending  ills  I  must 
Shun  the  cheerful  beam  of  day,  and  wander 
Only  when  the  night  shrouds  the  world  in  gloom. 
The  letter  which  I  carry  in  my  vest 


114  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Declares  the  object  of  my  visit,  and  will, 

"I'm  sure,  remove  your  doubts  :  it's  from  Athol." 

When  she  heard  the  gentle  name  of  Athol, 
She  felt  conscious  that  the  stranger's  ends  were 
Bight ;  and  without  further  parley  bade  him 
Enter.     Then  he  proffer'd  her  the  letter, 
Which  she  gladly  took,  and  turn'd  it  round  and 

round. 

Her  bosom  heaved  convulsed  with  deep  emotion, 
The  sudden  chill  of  fear  quit  her  blood, 
And  stay'd  the  with'ring  grief  that  blanch'd  her 

cheeks 
With  paly  dye,  and  sooth'd  her  thorny  pains. 

Then  while  Daisy,  in  the  dim  twilight,  cast 
A  joyous  look  upon  its  superscription, 
The  stranger  saw  how  beauteous  was  the  maid, 
How  serenely  fair  in  ev'ry  feature. 
Then,  with  the  light  of  new-born  hope,  she  from 
The  folded  letter  raised  her  languid  eyes, 


THE  FLOWEK  OF   SHETJAKDOAH.         115 

And   said  :  "  Tho'   the  lines  seem  to  have  been 

penn'd 

By  a  trembling  hand,  yet  I  can  trace  in 
Them  the  ornate  style  of  dear  Athol ;  and  may 
Fate  charter  freedom's  blessings  to  the  brave 
Who  brought  them.     May  ev'ry  adversity 
Give  him  renew'd  courage,  till  his  name  shall 
Be  upon  the  rolls  of  fame  enshrined,  and 
Honors,  like  his  days,  brighten  full  of  years." 
The  stranger  bow'd  his  grateful  thanks. 

"  How  was 

Dear  Athol  when  you  saw  him  last,"  she  said. 
"  In  health  and  hope  quite  buoyant ;  for,  to  me, 
His  confidant,  he  often  speaks  of  you 
As  being  far  above  all  mortal  stars 
That  shine.     My  praises,  too,  with  his  can  now 
Be    joined."      Concluding  which,   Daisy  look'd 

straight 

At  the  stranger,  and  caught  the  quick  glance  of 
His  eye,  but  in  it  saw  he  was  sincere  : 


116  DAISY  SWAIN, 

Then,  gently  curtseyed  at  the  flatt'ring  words 
Which  he  had  spoken. 

"  Most  loth  am  I,  fair  maid, 
To  bid  you  now  farewell ;  but  the  pale  star 
Of  eve  shoots  down  its  lustre,  and  shame  might 
Tinge  your  cheeks  if  here  I  tarried  longer." 
"  O,  sir,"  she  said,  "  my  tongue  hath  not  power 
Of  words  to  tell  the  emotions  that  now 
I  feel :    But  give  Athol  this  token  of 
My  love,  and  murmur  in  his  ear  these  vows 
Of  mine  :    Tell  him  that,  '  so  long  as  time  shall 
Last,  his  image  will  remain  and  still  be 
Cherish'd  at  my  faithful  heart,  and  that,  Like 
The  stream  near  which  he's  now  encamp'd,  my 

love 
For  him  is  deep  and  pure/  " 

Delighted  with 

The  kindly  task  enjoined,  the  courier 
Promised  faithfully  her  commands  he  would 


THE    FLOWEB   OF    SHENAKDOAH.          117 

Obey.    Then  both  their  hands  in  friendship's  grasp 
Were  soon  combined. 

Hastily  forth  he  sallied, 
And  nimbly  mounted  on  his  roan  steed, 
Which  restlessly  on  the  emerald  sward  paw'd 
The  deep  green  grass.     "  Adieu,"  he  said.  "  Good 

bye" 

"  And  may  kind  Providence  guard  you  safely 
On  your  way,"  was  her  response.     Then  quickly, 
The  horseman  and  his  charger,  to  her  sight 
Were  lost,  in  the  gloom  of  night  enshrouded  deeply. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


$thol'$  Lette^  to  Baist)  —  $he  t§uit$  hetj  Iftlace  of 

i&u]th  —  $e*j  $ea*fch  of  $thol  —  $eq   $)e$paitf  — 

fphe  Loyal  peasants  —  fghe  (puetjillae  — 

tphe  Burning  3^ut  —  Xt$  Victims. 

IN  the  calm  silence  of  that  evening  hour, 
As  Daisy  sat  musing  o'er  the  joyful  news 
Which  Athol's  letter  might  contain  ;  the  moon, 
Hastening  from  her  eastern  bowers,  full  flushed 
Arose  and  brightly  shone  o'er  all  the  vale  ; 
Glanced  radiantly  a  trembling  ray  of  light 
Upon  the  cottage  window. 

A  welcome  boon 

Was  the  refulgent  beam  to  Daisy  : 
For,  soon  with  cheeks  by  joy's  warm  glow  suffused, 
She  fondly  pressed  the  letter  to  her  lips, 
And,  then,  by  love's  pure  torch  read  these  words  : 


THE  FLOWEB  OF  SHETJANDOAH.         119 

"  In  the  field,  near  Philomont,  Virginia, 

"August  23,  18G2. 
DAISY  :— 

"  Although  tyrant  rapine  hath 
Reffc  me  from  thee,  nor  time,  nor  distance,  nor 
The  hard  severities  which  fate  compels 
Me  to  endure,  hath  blurr'd  the  impressions 
Which  thy  dear  love  hath  made  upon  my  heart. 
For  when  my  mind  on  thy  fond  image  dwells, 
Cheerfully  I  bear  my  aches  and  pains  and 
Meet  the  dull  monotonies  of  camp  life. 
Amidst  all  the  hardships  incident 
To  a  soldier,  and  my  perils  on  the  field, 
The  heart-melting  ecstasy  still  burns 
In  my  breast,  that  I  shall  soon  again  see 
Her  whom  my  fond  heart  passionately  adores. 
Be  then  thyself  thus  warm  with  hope  :  for,  in 
Grief  or  absence,  Heaven's  just  hand  weighs  well 
The  lot  of  human  life.    Neglect  no  means 
Which  may  be  best  to  mitigate  your  pains  ; 
And  when  this  inhuman  conflict's  o'er 


120  DAISY   SWAIN, 

And  the  last  battle  shall  have  been  fought  and 

won, 

And  death  thro'  ev'ry  danger  hath  my  life 
Preserved,  the  black'ning  clouds  which  now  veil 

our 

Hopes  will  have  cleared  away  and  then  we'll  bask, 
Unrestrained,  in  the  sunshine  of  love,  till 
Death  puts  an  end  to  all  our  earthly  joys. 

"  But  God  alone  knows  when  the  feast  of  car 
nage 

Will  be  o'er,  as  the  giant  North,  firm  in 
Her  strength  and  lavish  with  abundant  means, 
Still  pours  forth,  in  myriads  strong,  new  heirs 
To  glory.     Therefore,  blood  must  yet  be  bought 
With  blood  ;  for'  unavailing  thus  far  hath 
Proved  the  threats  of  laws  and  force  of  arms 
To  quell  the  civil  hate  and  strife.     Ruin 
Yet  rolls  its  sweeping  tide  of  misery  along 
Virginia's  blood-stained  fields,  where,  mingling 
Their  lamentations  with  the  woundeds'  groans, 


THE  FLOWEB   OF   SHEJS"A^DOAH. 

Houseless  are  many  old  and  young,  besides 
How  much  of  woe  unseen,  how  much  untold. 

"  Even  while  I  pen  these  lines,  the  news  hath 
Beached  me  that  the  self-same  subtle  fiend  who 
Has  been  the  cause  of  all  your  wrongs,  now 
Leads  a  ruffian  guerilla  gang  through 
The  gorges  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  to  forage 
In  the  plains  of  ill-fated  Maryland  ; 
To  steal  horses,  pasturing  herds,  and  grain, 
From  the  husbandmen  :   and  p'rhaps,   as  they 

through 

The  Shenandoah  pass,  the  marauders 
Will  pillage,  burn,  and  make  your  rich  valley 
One  devastated  waste.     But  rest  assur'd 
That  all  their  agencies  of  hell  will  not 
Our  vigilance  oppose.     We  now  sleep  upon 
Our  arms,  ready  at  a  moment's  warning 
To  rise  combined  as  one  to  check  their  course. 

"But  if  the  lurking  rebel  should  evade 

Our  watchfulness,  in  friendly  guise  he  may 
11  ' 


122  DAISY   SWAIN, 

In  all  his  pompous  pride  come  to  the  cot 
Again,  and  evermore  darken  the  light 
That  beams  in  thine  eyes  so  blue.     Consequently, 
Forego  ho  merit  of  good  intent, 
But  rather  seek  safety  in  flight  :  as  'tis 
Always  best  to  fly  when  arm'd  dangers  threaten 
Unarm'd  innocence.  Therefore,  be  on  your  guard  : 
The  rest  I'll  leave  to  your  own  sagacious  heart. 

"  ATHOL." 

"  May  bliss  from  heav'n  around  thee  dwell.     To 

see 

Thee  soon,  dear  Athol,  I'll  try.     Aye,  even 
Before  the  glowing  sun  to-morrow  doth 
Shine  in  the  meridian,  I  will  be  on 
My  lonesome  way.     Then  quick,  O  smiling  morn 
Awake,  that  I  may  go  in  search  of  him  who'll 
Find  my  heart  as  firm,  as  pure  and  holy 
As  his  own.     But  if  I  should  find  him  not — " 
Here   awhile   she  paused — then  said  :     "Why 
then  I'll 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.    123 


Weep  him  dead."   Just  then  a  fleeting  cloud  roll'd 
Athwart  the  moon,  and  wrapt  both  her  and  earth 
In  the  opake  shroud  of  night. 


Then  sleep,  with 

Her  bland  Morphean  folds,  her  heavy  eyes  soon 
Sealed  in  soft  repose,  where,  deep  in  dreamland's 
Magic  bowers,  she  lay  unconscious  but  a  spell, 


124  DAISY  SWAIN. 

For  broken  was  her  rest,  which  made  the  night 
So  long  and  irksome  seem,  that  soon  she  from 
Her  restless  couch  arose,  listen' d,  but  heard 
No  sountl  save  the  sigh  of  the  low  breeze. 
Then  casting  up  an  anxious  eye  toward 
The  orb-bespangled  crown  of  night,  she  saw 
The  paly  lustre  of  the  morning  star 
Faded  languidly  before  the  gleam  of 
Breaking  day,  which,  afar  upon  the  peaks 
Of  the  high  distant  hills,  shone  tremblingly. 

Then  in  her  satchel  dainties  few  she  pack'cl 
For  life's  support,  and  cheering  succour  by 
The  way,  where'er  she'd  shape  her  course,  o'er  hill, 
Thro'  grove,  down  dale.  But  yet,  at  first,  too  wea,k 
Her  resolution  seem'd  to  quit  her  place 
Of  birth,  and  where  her  parent  lay 
In  rude  grave  :  for  alone  to  leave  the  grave 
Neglected,  would  evince  no  longer  love 
Nor  filial  duty.     Thus  was  her  mind  sway'd 
By  the  fond  pow'r  of  attachment. 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENATJDOAH.         125 

At  length 

Beason  came  to  her  aid.     Loose  purpose  might 
Lead  to  life's  disgrace,  and  to  linger  there 
Was  to  be  undone.    She  shudder'd  at  the -thought, 
And  said,  she'd  put  her  trust  in  Him  who  grants 
Or  takes  away  ;  would  go  wherever  fate 
Or  fortune  her  might  waft ;  and  then,  with  fixed 
Resolve,  forth  in  the  noontide  beam  she  went 
Where  her  dear  mother's  dust  reposed,  and  there 

pluck' d 

Off  the  grave  a  reed  that  trembling  grew  : 
Then  turn'd  her  fair  face  to'ards  her  childhood's 

home 

She  loved,  and  casting  one  last  look  upon 
Her  mother's  blest  abode,  she,  weeping,  dash'd 
Into  a  wood. 

There  her  startled  eyes  peered 
Bound  and  round.      Thick  incumbent   shadows 
scowl'd 

About  her.     Ev'ry  now  and  then  she  fear'd 
11* 


126 


DAISY  SWAIN, 


Some  beast  of  prey  would  pounce  upon  and  eat 
Her.     But  on  she  rov'd  o'er  plains  and  forded 
Unknown    floods.      Her    bed    sear'd    leaves    of 

autumn  ; 
Her   pillow   some    bleak    rock.      Nor    fear   then 

blanch'd 

Her  care-worn  cheeks  ;  for  the  first  tremor  long 
Since  vanish'd  from  her  breast.     Fortitude 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.    127 

All  her  power  of  endurance  had  summon'd, 
And  arm'd  her  with  fix'd  resolution  : 
With  which  she  heeded  not  the  howling  of 
The  tempest,  the  lightning's  vivid  glare, 
Nor  the  pealing  thunder's  crash. 

Yet  one  day, 

As  the  sun  declined,  she,  weary,  languid, 
Faint,  within  a  silent  shelter'd  spot  sat 
Veil'd  in  gloom,  and  there  of  hop*e  bereft,  sigh'd 
And  said  :  "  Alas !  nothing  but  thorns  my  way 
Beset.     Want,  woe,  and  strife  my  pilgrimage 
Doth  vex.     Fruitless  my  search  hath  been.     Way 
ward 

Still  my  destiny  ;  for  it  seems  Heaven  doth 
Deny  me  the  expected  joy  to  heal 
The  gnawing  smarts  which  my  misfortunes  bring. 
Then,  if  I'm  doom'd  to  die,  why  not  here  in 
This  wild  wood  ;  for  my  wearied  soul  I  feel 
Wants  to  be  enchain'd  no  longer  down  to  earth, 
But  yearns  to  soar  to  the  blest  abode  where 


128 

Shines  yon  bright  and  happy  star. 

Gazing  upward, 
Her   eyes  then   caught   a  light    gleaming   dimly 

through 

The  umbrage  of  the  wood.     Both  hope  and  fear 
Soon  took  the  place  of  her  despair.     She  knew 
Not  whether  friend  or  foe  resided  whence 
The  glimmer  faintly  shone  ;  yet  something  innate 
Panted  at  her  heart  that  a  lone  maid  would 
There  be  welcom'd,  and  soon  the  spot  she  reached; 
Found  to  her  great  joy,  the  light  proceeded 
From  a  peasant's  humble  habitation. 

She  knock'd  the   door.      The  panel  gave  the 

sound. 

A  female  voice  within  demanded,  "  Who 
Is  there?"     "One  whom  the  winds  blow  fierce 

about ; 

A  poor  exile  who  wanders  far  and  wide, 
Houseless,  friendless,  and  forlorn,"  said  Daisy. 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.    129 

The  last  word  scarcely  fell  from  her  lips  ere 
The  door  wide  open  on  its  hinges  swung. 

Tenderly  they  mark'd  her  mournful  mein, 
And  saw  too  well  her  sunken  eyes  exprest 
The  haggard  sign  that  deep  corroding  care 


Was  eating  up  her  mind  :  how  faint  she  was 
From  hunger  and  her  toilsome  journeyings. 

But  soon  they  from  their  homely  board  bestow'd 
On  Daisy  choicest  fare — the  gen'rous  mite 


130  DAISY   SWAIK. 

Unask'd  ;  for,  tho'  scanty  was  the  portion 
Nature  gave  to  them,  yet  they  spared  not  when 
The  hungry  craved,  the  houseless  needed  shelter  ; 
For  they  good-natured  were,  if  not  refined 
With  the  gloss  of  worldly  worth.     Charity 
Comes  from  the  soul  :  its  promptings  are  divine  ; 
This  Daisy  knew,  and  estimated  rightly 
Their  gen'rous  hearts  by  what  their  hands  had 
given. 

T 

All  amazed  they  listen'd  to  the  story 
Of  her  woes,  and  felt  indignant  at  the  deeds 
The  cruel  rebel  done,  and  him  denounc'd 
A  brute.     Then  she  told  them  that  'twas  fear 
Which  made  her  leave  her  native  home,   and 

love, 

That  sadden'd  all  her  thoughts,  to  wander  so 
With  beating  heart  and  eager  hopes  to  find 
Her  lover  youth,  a  soldier  brave,  who  gloried 
To  be  foremost  in  the  fight ;  and  tho'  in 
Many  an  adverse  battle  tried,  yet  smiled 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.    131 

On  dangers  past,  and  lived  the  open  foe 
Of  traitors  to  their  country. 

Then  she  from 

Her  bosom  Athol's  vignette  drew.     They  gazed  , 
Admiringly  upon  his  handsome  face  ; 
But  quickly  alternating  their  delight, 
With  much  surprise  they  said  : 

"  Alas !  not  long  since 

A  squad  of  Fed'ral  soldiers,  arm'd  with  weapons 
Of  death,  came  down  yonder  mountain's  steep, 
Singing  songs  of  freedom  and  strains  of  love. 
Their  leader's  features  strong  resemblance  bore 
Unto  this  likeness,  but  more  swarthy 
His  complexion  seemed  ;  but  this  may  have  been 
Caused  by  his  exposure  to  the  scorching  sun.    . 
Nor  were  his  cheeks  so  round  and  full ;  still, 
This  can  be  attributed  to  his  love 
And  distant  thoughts  of  you  ;  but  his  hair,  like 
This,  was  black  as  a  raven's  wing." 


132  DAISY  SWAIN, 

"Then  fright, 

Unknown  before,  seized  our  hearts,  for  'twas 
The  first  time  that  our  wond'ring  eyes  ere  saw 
Men  dressed  up  in  clothes  fantastic.     "  Fear  not," 
The  leader  said,  "  we  are  your  friends  :  ours  is 
No  hostile  banner  :  it  waves  for  freedom, 
Law,  and  order,  not  for  spoliation  : 
And  on  many  a  hard-fought  field  against 
The  foe  it  has  been  reared.     Therefore  be  not 
Alarmed  ;  your  lives  are  safe  :  no  invaders 
Now  your  quiet  retreat  explore." 

"Thus  he  spoke, 

Soft  as  the  accents  of  a  child,  and  yet, 
As  he  turned  round  to  face  his  men,  I  thought 
I  saw  an  insidious  smile  play  round  his  mouth  ; 
Still  we  'sposed  they  were  sincere,  that  men  train'd 
Up  to  mortal  combat,  and  who'd  achieved 
Heroic  deeds  whilst  sternly  battling  with 
Frantic  hordes  of  lawless  foes,  surely  would 
Not  stoop  their  honors  to  defame  and  blight 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENAJSTDOAH,         133 

The  laurels  they  so  nobly  earned,  to  hurt 

The  harmless  and  injure  the  confiding. 

But,   alas  I    faithless  were    those    friends  :    they 

proved 

Themselves  our  greatest  enemies  ;  for  when 
We   gave   them    all    the    food    and   drink   they 

needed ; 

In  short,  to  ev'ry  one  impartially 
Our  gen'rous  care  extended  ;  they,  after 
Partaking  of  our  hospitality, 
Stole  from  the  plow  my  husband's  oxen  :  took 
My  best  two  milch  cows,  then  shot  our  poultry  ; 
And  carried  on  their  depredations  till 
Nearly  all  the  means  with  which  we  life 
Supported,  they  knavishly  purloined. 

"  But  mark,  this  is  not  all  :  the  knaves  added 
Insult  to  injury  ;  for  when  we  ask'd 
Payment  for  the  chattels  which  they'd  stolen, 
Harsh  and  rude  the  wretches  laugh'd,  and  drove 

Before  them  our  sheep,  horses,  hogs,  and  cattle  : 
12 


134  DAISY   SWAIN 


Ev'n  now  the  thankless  and  irreverent  tongues 
Of  the  audacious  roughs  ring  in  my  ears." 

"  Can  aught  in  human  nature  be  less  kind  ? 
Hard  it  is  indeed  to   bear   such  wrongs,"  said 

Daisy, 

"  Yet  none  the  less,  my  friends,  have  they,  I  find, 
Subdued  the  gen'rous  feelings  of  your  hearts. 
Bount'ous  strangers,  now  farewell.     Quick  must  I 
Pursue  my  way,  to  resolve  whatever 
Fate  decrees  me." 

Just  then  appalling  sounds 
Of  horror  wild  arose  upon  her  ears.     "  Death 
To  foes  :  captivity  to  traitors  :  slaughter 
And  slav'ry  yet  shall  triumph."     Daisy  shrank 
With  fright,  and  cold  sweat  beaded  on  her  brow. 

Soon  the  same  guerillas  bold,  with  torches 
In  their  hands,  and  with  augmented  force  'proach'd 
her. 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SUET* AND O AH.         135 


She  gave  a  piercing  shriek  and  fainting  fell 
To  earth.     "  A  female  spy,"  the  ruffians  cried, 
Then  looking  down  they  thought  the  damsel  dead, 
And  raised  her  prostrate  form  up  from  the  ground, 
And  bore  her  to  a  darksome  glade  hard  by  the  hut. 


Then  back  they  to  the  cot  their  hasty  steps 
Retraced.     Their  presence  to  the  old  folks'  hearts 


136  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Wild  terrors  brought.  Quick,  the  peasant  pale  with 
Horror  leaped  from  his  bed  and  on  his  knees 
Begg'd  the  rebels  to  spare  the  helpless  lives  of 
Both  himself  and  wife. 

"Yes,  we  shall,"  they  cried, 

"If  you  own  our  sway,  our  cause  defend,  and  leave 
This  place,  wherein  a  moment  since  we  saw 
You  aid  and  comfort  give  unto  a  foe." 

But  the  peasant  scorn'd  to  quit  his  home,  and 

said  : 

"  His  constancy  to  his  country  was  due, 
And  that  he'd  rather  die  than  sell  his  birthright 
To  those  who  fought  to  oppress  and  conquer'd 
To  enslave." 

t 
This  roused  the  rebels'  ire.     They 

Struck,  then  kick'd  their  kneeling  foe.    For  mercy 
Pray'd  the  wife.     But  her  tears  nor  lamentations 
Could  melt  their  stony  hearts.     Soon  the  cot 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENAKDOAH.         137 

In  burning  ruins  blazed.     "Writhing  hands  rose 
Up  amid  the  sheeted  flames  imploring 
The  avenging  angel  down  to  hurl 
Bed  bolts  of  wrath  upon  and  strike  the  hearts 
Of  the  inhuman  wretches  dead  with  fright. 
While  amid  their  last  screams  of  agony 
Were  heard,  "We  treason  hate,  and  traitors  scorn; 
True  to  the  Union  die — loyal  to  the  last." 
12* 


CHAPTER    IX. 

a  Captive — tphe  Bivouac — Baisy'a  Boom. 

NOT  till  their  victims'  charr'd  remains  exhaled, 
Through  murky  wreaths  of  smoke,  a  pestilence 
Most  baleful,  did  the  rebels  quit  the  hut 
In  search  of  injured  Daisy,  whom  they  found 
Much  convulsed  and  with  all  her  sense  nigh  fled. 

Through  dark  desert  ways  and  rugged  paths 

they, 

Unmindful  of  her  piteous  cries,  her  sobs, 
Her  plaints  and  bitter  wailings,  brought  her  to 
A  cavern  deep,  scoop'd  out  between  two  hills, 
And  laid  her  in  a  dark  recess  wherein 
Her  fate  should  be  determin'd  by  their  chief, 
Who'd  not,  as  yet  returned. 

So,  round  a  blazing  fire, 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENAKDOAH.    139 


The   murd'ring  crew  caroused.     Some  the  weed 

fum'd. 

Some  sang  ribald  songs  by  turns  and  smutty  jokes 
Got  off,  whilst  others  quaffed  and  pass'd  around 
A  vile  inebriant  distillation. 


"  Drink,  comrades,  drink,"  more  loquacious  than 


140  DAISY   SWAIN, 

The  rest,  cried  one.     "  Drain  your  canteens  to  the 

dregs. 

'Tis  the  most  potent  of  all  drinks,  to  rouse 
Our  sluggish  blood  to  life  and  fortify 
Us  'gainst  dangerous  night  damps.     Besides,  it  is 
Our  chieftain's  birthday  night.     Then  let  us  al^ 
Be  merry,  jocund,  gay,  and  laugh  at  folly 
As  it  flies  on  pleasure's  wing.     For,  why  should 
"VVe  work  our  own  annoy,  when  now  we  have 
A  chance  to  pass  a  lucid  interval 
From  a  life  attended  with  so  many 
Dangers  ?    True,  to  lead  this  wild  course  has  been 
Our  own  choice  ;  or,  rather,  we  were  all  forced 
Into  it  by  the  roving  propensities 
Of  our  natures,  and  ungovernable  wills 
That  could  not  bear  restraints,  nor  drudgeries, 
Nor  the  enervating  dull  routines  of 
The  regular  soldier.     No,  my  comrades  ;  among 
These  hills  we  are  free  to  do  what  we  please. 
Here  we  can  and  do  despise  the  outer  world. 
Where  glaring  vice  and  luxury  prevail ; 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.         141 

Where  laws  are  made  most  stringently  to  force 
City  villains  into  decency. 
But  here,  full  of  adventurous  love,  among 
These  mountain  passes,  we  simply  practise 
The  ancient  virtues  of  our  ancestors, 
With  a  valiant  chief  whose  freeborn  soul  nought 
Can  turn  from  perilous  ways;  aye,  one  who  spurns 
The  niggard  Yankees'  selfish  yoke  and  hates 
Their  clannish,  over-jealous  natures.     Still, 
Sometimes  when  he's  not  aware,  I  notice 
That  his  high-toned  spirits  are  much  dejected, 
So  much  so,  in  fact,  he  seems  to  struggle 
Against  some  opposing  fate,  the  cause  of 
Which  I  opine  I  know.     So,  if  you'll  cease 
Your  drowsy  murmurs,  and  open  your  ears, 
I'll  breathe  into  them,  the  sad  incident 
Of  his  life  which  yet  preys  upon  his  mind. 

"Two  years  have  scarce  elapsed  since  he  was 

smitten 
With  the  peerless  charms  of  a  Yankee  maiden 


142  DAISY   SWAIK, 

Whose  father,  a  Puritan  born  and  bred, 
Lavish'd  on  her  with  unsparing  hands, 
The  wealth  he'd  gain'd  running  niggers  from 
Africa  into  the  Isle  of  Cuba, 
Hoping,  thereby,  that  his  gifts  of  fortune, 
Along  with  her  accomplishments,  would  add 
Great  dignity  to  his  high  lineage  ; 
Grace  the  pious  stock  from  which  she  sprang, 
And  draw  around  her  swarms  of  wealthy  suitors.'5 

"  Our  noble  chief,  a  Virginian  by  birth, 
Was  always  at  her  father's  house  a  welcome  guest ; 
For  he  thither  often  went  to  interchange 
With  her  father  mutual  thoughts  concerning 
Their  clandestine  interests  in  the  slave  trade. 
So,  whilst  in  social  converse,  the  father  learnt 
That  Agar  was  descended  from  one  of  the 
Eldest  and  most  distinguished  families 
Of  old  Virginia.     Then  coupling  this  news 
With  the  proud  notions  of  himself,  he  saw 
That  such  high  blood,  with  wealth  united,  would 


THE  FLO  WEE  OF   SHE^AUDOAH.         143 

Confer  much  honor  on  his  house,  and  offer' d 

Agar  his  daughter's  hand  in  marriage, 

With  vested  rights  in  estates  as  portion 

Of  her  marriage  dower.     Agar  consented, 

And  promised  to  solemnize  the  nuptials 

When  he'd  returned  from  Paris,  where  he'd  gone 

Some  months  before  the  war  broke  out. 

But  in 

That  gay  city,  where  vice  and  shame  strut  round 
Enrob'd  in  meek-sainted  guise,  wine  and  women 
Soon  his  youthful  bosom  fired.     Held  spell-bound 
By  the  charming  witch'ries  of  the  gay  lorettes, 
Who  hold  then*  bacchanals  at  the  Chateaux 
Des  Fleurs  and  Mabille,  soon  his  unthinkin  j 
And  blind  reason  brought  him  down  deep  into 
The  gulf  of  dissipation,  which  soon  made 
Him  needy  ;  for,  amid  his  orgies,  he  thought 
Not  of  the  ruin  he  was  bringing 
On  himself,  but,  to  relieve  his  pressing  wants, 
Continued  to  make  frequent  demands 


144 

For  means  from  her  father,  and  gave  his  lands 
In  Virginia  to  him  as  surety 
For  supplies. 

"  At  last  the  day  of  reck'ning 
Came.    The  Yankee  complain'd  of  tardy  payment ; 
Felt  touch' d  to  the  quick  in  consequence, 
And  vouchsafed  to  lend  our  chief  no  more  funds. 

"  So,  one  bright  morning,  the  captain  awoke 
To  the  consciousness  that  shadowy  ills 
Obscur'd  his   stores   at  home ;   and   once  more 

steer'd 

His  shatter'd  barque  across  the  ocean  wave. 
On  arriving  home  he  found  his  domains 
Were  laid  wasto  by  the  war  which  fiercely  raged 
Upon  his  native  soil,  his  slaves  set  free  ; 
In  short,  his  happy  home,  and  what  remain'd 
Of  his  once  fair  realms,  confiscated  were 
By  the  Federal  jackals. 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.    145 

"  But  yet  his  cup  of 
Mis'ry  was  not  full :  one  drop  it  lack'd 
More  turgid  still.     Adverse  fate  deign'd  to  add 
Poignancy  to  his  misfortunes  :  for  with 
Harsh  disdain  the  maiden's  father  on  him 
Fix'd  an  eye  malignant,  and  with  anger 
Bade  him  never  more  to  cross  his  threshold. 

"Struck  with  such  unkindness,  our  chieftain 

took 

It  in  his  heart  to  loath  forever  more 
The  Yankees,  and  swore  he'd  hold  dread  reverence 
O'er  their  heads,  joined  our  cause,  then  took  these 

hills 
To—" 

Awe-struck,  they  him  beheld.     He  came  with 
Hurried  tread.     Amazed,  he  stood  awhile  as 
If  some  boding  ill  gleam'd  through  his  eyes. 
Soon  his  abject  crew  bent  to  his  pride,  and  quit 

The  bivouac  his  wishes  to  fulfill  : 

12 


146 

To  forage  round  and  ransack  spots,  which,  in 
Open  day,  their  footsteps  fear'd  to  tread. 

When  gone,  the  ingrate  bold  the  weak  maid 

eyed 

O'er  and  o'er  ;  gave  her  many  a  wishful  look  ; 
And  urg'd  by  lust,  the  leafy  couch  approach'd 
On  which  she  slumbering  lay.     She  started  up 
As  from  a  trance,  with  hair  dishevell'd  much, 
And  features  fix'd  in  stern  expression  wild, 
And  on  him  threw  the  keenest  dart  cf  scorn. 

Barb'rously  severe  he  her  accused  of 
Trait'rous  complicity,  and,  indignant, 
Said  :  "  Haughty  fair  one,  now  thy  doom's  decreed. 
Thou  shalt  have  but  one  hour  more  to  linger  here, 
If  now  thou  dost  not  to  my  wishes  lend 
A  gracious  ear." 

Down  on  her  knees  Daisy 
Look'd  up  at  him  with  mild,  imploring  eyes, 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.        147 

And  with  anguish  in  her  bosom,  wailing, 
Said  :  "  Alas !  he's  thought  severe  who  thus  con 
demns 

The  innocent  and  unhappy.     Hast  thou 
Not  one  friend  to  whom  the  sacred  heart  relies 
For  truth  and  honor  ?     If  not,  then  such  have 
I — one  ardent,  noble,  kind  :    In  faith  and  hope 
Unfaltering  we  are  bound." 

But  her  soft  pleadings 

Could  not  move  his  harden'd  heart :   It  was  bereft 
Of  all  that's  meek  and  tender.     He  heeded  not 
Her  tears,  her  firm  faith,  nor  virtue  proud, 
But  said  :   "  You'll  never  see  your  lover  more. 
In  prison  he  now  wears  his  chains.     P'rhaps  ere 
Now,  the  Yankee's  rotten  carcase  has  been 
To  the  buzzards  thrown."     "  Then  if  Athol  is 
To  me  forever  lost,"  she  cried,  "  God  bless 
His  soul.     His  image  so  dear  to  my  sight  shall 
In  my  heart  be  firmly  fixed,  nor  ever 
From  my  cherish'd  memory  fade.     But  thou, 


148  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Vile  minion  of  all  that's  mean  and  great, 
The  willing  tool  of  that  vain  man  whose  pride 
Is  phrenzy,  whose  ambition's  but  despair, 
Whose  heart  is  void  of  ev'ry  spark  divine, 
The  curse  of  orphans  and  the  cause  of 
Many  a  widow's  tear,  know  that  you  may 
Glitter  in  your  infamy  awhile  ; 
But  the  potent  grasp  of  might  shall  be  soon 
Wrested  from  you  :    The  majesty  of  pow'r 
Is  in  the  avenging  sword  held  in  the  hand 
Of  Heav'n  :   'twill  yet  descend  upon  and  burst 
Your  vaunted  bubble  to  the  sun,  aye,  blast 
Your  lauded  greatness  :    Deeds  of  retribution 
Deal  unto  the  mean  and  base  ambitious  fools 
Upon  the  gibbet ;  and  righteous  justice 
Yet  shall  hurl  upon  thee  its  avenging  ire, 
For  the  wrongs  which  thou  hast  cruelly  brought 
Upon  my  Athol's  hapless  head  :    Aye,  you 
Who  came  into  that  happy  home  where  dwelt 
In  blessed  peace  the  innocent  whose  ears 
Were  strangers  to  the  blast  and  din  of  war, 


THE  FLOWER   OF   SHENANDOAH.         149 

And  vilely  brought,  therein,  much  misery, 
Wretchedness  and  mourning".     My  father's  name 
Blasphem'd  with  curses  foul,  then  reft  him  from 
Me,  and  in  a  dungeon  dire,  him  thrust,  to  pine, 
To  starve,  and  die  :  my  aged  mother  caused 
Through  pining  grief  to  sink  into  her  grave 
Ere  she'd  time  to  don  a  widow's  mourning  weeds  ; 
And  me  an  outcast  orphan  made  for  life. 
But  remember,  yours  is  but  a  weak  boast 
Of  transitory  power.     Successful  guilt 
Can  but  triumph  awhile  :    For  soon  before 
The  keen,  relentless  weapons  of  the  North, 
Both  your  stuck-up  pride  and  cause  shall 
Tumble  :   'tis  to  them  alone  revenge  is 
Given.     Beware." 

At  this,  in  drunken  fury, 

The  chieftain  laugh'd  outright,  and  said:  "Murmur 
Not,  my  dear,  fond  bird.  Do  you  think  I'd  injure 
A  bosom  so  fair.  Beauty  like  thine  was 

Form'd  for  joy  ;  and  you  must  own  I'm  now 
13* 


150  DAISY  SWAIN," 

Your  lawful  lord." 

i 

Then  lie  strove  with  eager  arms 
To  grasp  her.     As  quick  she  from  his  touch  re- 

coil'd. 

"  Shrink  not,"  he  angrily  cried.     "  Succumb 
To  my  power  thou  must,  or,  in  this  dense  wood 
Unseen  by  mortal  eye,  from  life  to  death 
Thou  soon  shalt  pass  ;  for,  longer  my  mind 
Thy  indiff 'rence  can't  bear,  thy  peevish  censures 
Endure  :   nought  but  thy  consent  to  be  my  bride 
Can  satisfy  my  burning  soul."     Saying  which, 
He  grasped  her  by  her  long  dishevell'd  hair. 
"Swear,"  he  cried,  "ere  this  dagger's  keen  edge 

shall 
In  your  heart's  blood  be  imbrued." 

"No,  no,"  she  said, 

"  Fate  will  ne'er  permit  me  to  touch  thy  hand, 
It  hath  the  stain  of  murder'd  blood ;  and  such  love 
As  thine,  the  tender-hearted  would  defile  : 


THE  FLOWEK  OF   SHEjS"ANDOAH.         151 

Forever  unhappy  she'd  be  whose  bosom 
Hath  therein  sincere  passion  glowing.     No, 
My  honor  lives  for  one  most  dear  to  my  heart. 
Therefore,  if  my  ardent  troth  for  him  I  love 
Can't  kindle  in  thy  breast  compassion's  warmth, 
Why  longer  the  sacrifice  delay  ?     Why 
Tantalize  your  victim  like  a  cat  ere 
You  destroy  ?  or  like  the  venom'd  adder 
Coil  your  folds  around  ere  you  sting  to  death 
Your  prey  ?     For  well  I  know  he  who  would  not 
Spare  my  father's  life  will  not  spare  my  own  ; 
And  death  would  end  the  tortures  which  now  rack 
My  beating  heart.     But  beware.     He  yet  lives 
For  whom  my  soul  with  sacred  fervor  burns. 
He  whom  thy  bold  hands  hath  sway'd  with  cruelty, 
But  who  will  yet  thy  proud  triumph  guilt 
Avenge." 

Then  reviving  wrath  the  chieftain's  soul 
Inflam'd.     The  name  of  Athol  moved  his  heart 
To  hate  ;  and  black  as  night  he  frown'd  and  spent 


152  DAISY   SWAIN. 

His  rage  on  helpless  Daisy,  who  struggled 

At  his  feet.     Her  clasp'd  hands  clinging  round  his 

knees  ; 

With  dripping  eyes  to  Heav'n  raised  and  crying, 
"  Oh !  God  of  mercy !  is  there  no  friend  nigh  ?" 
"  There  is  a  friend,"  a  deep  gruff  voice  behind 
A  rock  exclaim'd.     "  Arrogant  knave,  forbear." 
The  rebel  heard  the  voice.     It  rived  his  heart. 
His  stern  determined  look  he  took  from  off 
The  mortal  place,  and  quick  with  fright  he  started 
Back,    recoil'd    and    dropt    unstain'd    upon    the 

ground 

His  sheathless  dirk,  which  high  above  her  head 
He  held. 

Again  he  heard  the  voice  upon 
The  midnight  blast  exclaim,  "  Outcast  of  earth 
Is  searching  among  these  hills,  to  ravish 
Helpless  women,  then  to  thrust  them  from  you 
As  in  scorn,  to  murder  in  cold  blood 
Thy  vaunted  chivalry  ?     The  crimes  which  you've 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENAKDOAH.    153 

Already  done,  now  cry  aloud  to  Heaven 
For  vengeance.     Therefore,  thou  rebel  reprobate ! 
Beware.     If  you  murder  her  nigh  strangled 
At  your  feet,  hell's  furies,  that  now  thirst 
Unceasing  for  your  blood,  will  pursue  you 
Everywhere.     Horrid  sounds  will  rise  on 
Ev'ry  wind  and  in  your  blood-stained  conscience 
Howl  these  words  :  '  Seducer,  coward,  murderer/  " 

Pale  turned  the  chieftain's  cheeks  :    His  joints 

trembled 

As  if  by  an  intermittent  ague  shook. 
Then  he  quickly,  like  a  fleeting  shadow, 
Vanish'd  through  the    gloom,   whilst  the   voice, 

meantime, 
Hard  on  his  trail,  cried  :    "  Thou  curst,  abandon'd 

wretch, 

Well  may'st  thou  fly  from  guilt's  alarms, 
But  never  from  your  wicked  conscience. 


CHAP  TEE    X. 


Bescue  —  $e»|  Mivetjej]  —  $etj  Meeting  with 
$thol—  (^he  Battle—  Beath  of  the  Lovers. 

WHEN  the  chieftain  deep  into  the  forest  shade 
Had  fled,  the  stranger  from  his  covert  hied 
To  the  gloomy  spot  where  Daisy's  cries  for 
Mercy  had  arisen,  and  found  ^er  there 
Half  dead  by  fear,  murmuring  in  despair. 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENANDOAH.         155 
Soon  he  from  the  ground  her  faint  form  raised, 

A 

And  in  her  livid  cheeks  beheld  how  much, 

Alas !  her  inmost  heart  was  wounded.     Then 

From  the  rocky  cell  along  a  vernal  path 

He  bore  his  fragile  trust  in  safety, 

Until  a  hazel  glade  he  reached,  where  obscur'd 

From  curious  sight,  he  halted  near 

A  tinkling  rill,  which  down  a  pebbly  steep 

Slow  trickling  ran,  and  with  its  ice-cool  water 

Daisy's  fevered  temples  lav'd. 

Soon  with 
Open  eyes  she  hailed  the  breaking  morn's  gray 

light ; 

Her  ears  caught  the  plaintive  murmur  of  the  rill ; 
Her  low  voice  muttered,  "  Where  am  I  ?  By  whom 
Thus  held  hand  bound  ?    Who's  my  deliverer  ?" 

'Twas  then  the  stranger  read  with  glad  surprise 
Her  brighten'd  looks,  and  thro'  her  gleaming  eyes 
Saw  her  life  was  safe  ;  but  yet  a  symbol 


156  DAISY  SWAIN, 

There  reveal'd  some  hidden  secret  in  her  heart, 
Which,  altho'  her  charms  had  been  by  the  keen 

blight 

Of  sorrow  faded,  still  show'd  that  the  soft  tinge 
Of  beauty  lingered  on  her  care-worn  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  Sir,"  she  said,  "  to  you  I  owe  my  life, 
To  you  my  grateful  thanks  are  due.     Never 
Can  my  heart  renounce  thy  hallow'd  friendship's 

claim." 

Then  she  told  him  all  about  her  hard  fate  : 
What  wrongs  she'd  from  the  rebels  borne,  and  how 
Of  father,  mother,  friends  bereft ;  and  one, 
Also,  who  found  her  young,  torn  from  her  fair. 
"  Ah  !"  she  sigh'd,  "  oft  together  we  have  form'd 
Our  mutual  faiths  with  fondest  truths,  and  sealed, 
With  true  love  sighs,  our  promised  hymen  vow. 
But  being  then  of  him  and  friends  bereft 
By  that  pamper'd  son  of  vice  and  tyranny, 

No  one  was  left  who  could  my  griefs  assauge  ; 

- 

And  oft  I've  visited  the  blissful  bowers 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.    157 

Where  we  were  wont  to  meet,  and  wander'd  often 
O'er  and  o'er  again  our  fie]       }f  cheerful  love  ; 
But  all  those  once  bright  scenes  were  clouded  ; 
Nor  sun,  nor  moon,  nor  stars  had  light  for  me. 
Each  hour  his  absence  wrung  my  heart.     Many 
Long,  sad  days  I  heard  no  tidings  of  him  ; 
And  feared  I  was,  alas !  forever  doom'd 
His  friendship's  bitter  loss  to  taste,  when — "  Here 
She  paused  to  wipe  away  the  tears  that  dimm'd 
Her  eyes. 

"  Alas !"  her  friend  then  cried,  "  how  strange 
Do  secret  sympathies  human  souls  pervade  ! 
The  hardest  heart  in  grief  like  thine  would  feel 
A  share  ;  and  even  now  to  see  thee  weep, 
Connects  with  thine  my  own  remember'd  joys 
Unto  thy  wretchedness  ;  for  thy  plight  afflicts 
My  heart,  and,  like  me,  I  learn  thou  art  to  love 
And  keen  despair  a  prey, — a  victim  of 
The  self  same  ruffian  vile  who  thrust  me  in 

A  dungeon  clark,  where  many  weary  days 

14 


158  DAISY  SWAIN, 

And  nights  I,  caged  up  like  an  untamed  beast, 
Imprison'd  sat,  a  hapless  vassal  bound, 
Pining  in  darkness,  famish'd,  and  benumb'd 
By  damps,   clanking    my    slavish    chains,    and 

counting 

Many  a  weary  hour  of  my  dull  life 
Away,  thinking  that  if  I  could  but  rend 
The  links  that  gall'd  my  heart,  I'd  quickly  fly 
To  the  dear  pledge  whom  to  my  first-born  hopes 
Was  known — one  whose  face  I  found  in  pride  of 
Beauty  fair,  and  in  whose  lustrous  blue  eye 
Her  gentle  spirit  shone.     O  that  Daisy 
Now  were  nigh  to  hear  my  voice,  I'd — " 

Daisy  felt 

Like  being  lifted  to  the  clouds,  and  fixed 
Her  eyes  full  on  the  stranger.     "  I  see,  I  see  1" 
She  cried,  "  thou  art  none  else  but  Athol  I 
This  yeoman's  guise  is  all  delusion  1" 
With  one  accordant  pause  an  attitude 
They  struck  ;  and  mute  awhile  they  stood  in  all 


THE  FLOWER  OF  SHENANDOAH.    159 

The  silent  eloquence  of  love  ;  then  rush'd 
Into  each  others'  arms. 

Heart  to  heart  they  press'd — 
Burning  kisses  seal'd  their  lips.     Kaptures  raised 
Their  two  embodied  souls  to  heaven,  for 
They  knew  not  where  they  stood.     Creation,  too, 
Her  grateful  voice  uplifted  ;  as  the  sky, 
Just  then,  with  joyous  light  an  unclouded 
Aspect  wore.     Gaily  the  birds,  in  pairs, 
On  lithe  wings  flutter'd  about  them.    Their  jocund 

songs 
Attuned  made  the  welkin  ring  with  mirth. 

Soon  from  the  wretched  Daisy  Athol's  presence 
Banish'd  care  ;  her  falling  tears  dried,  and  caus'd 
Life's  mantling  current  high  to  mount  her  face. 
Her  humorous  heart  then  dimpled  her  cheek  with 
Smiles.     The  lucid  gladness  over  all 
Her  features  spread.      Sonorous  and  clear  she 
vented 


160  DAISY  SWAIN, 

Forth  a  joyous  laugh  at  seeing  Athol 

In  disguise.     He,  too,  in  sweet  astonishment 

Smiled  and  said  :  "  'Tis  done  to  cheat  the  rebel's 

sight ; 

For,  the  human  mind,  you  know,  is  well  versed 
In  deceit :   The  sure  of  falsehood  practised 
It ;  the  rebels  follow  him ;  we  copy 
Them — perhaps  with  more  consummate  art." 

'Twas 

Thus  that  their  strange  meeting  on  each  other 
Much  unsullied  pleasure  did  bestow.     Then 
Daisy  mildly  said  :  "  Come,  Athol,  let  us 
Hasten  from  this  place  :    It  is  the  shrine  of 
Eebels,  and  the  air  around  is  tainted 
With  their  breaths.     Come,   let   us  go   ere  the 

brood  of 
Vile  cut-throats  bar  our  paths." 


"No,  Daisy,  no," 
Cried  Athol,  "  Fame,  honor,  truth,  forbid  it. 


THE  FLOWER  OF   SHENA^DOAH.         161 

The  dastard  sycophant  who  mock'd  at  me 
Scarce  heal'd  of  my  wounds,  and  you  an  orphan 
Made,  to  suffer  from  hunger  and  p'rhaps  die, 
Unpitied,  among  my  friends  a  speedy  fate 
Must  find  :  as  justice  for  the  wrongs  the  brute 
Has  done,  the  crimes  which  he's  exulted  o'er 
Demand  his  doom.     Yet,  being  a  scout,  it  would 
Be  prudent,  now  to  leave  ere  danger  may 
In  direst  form  arise  and  disconcert 
My  well  laid  plans  to  capture  the  guerrillas, 
For  our  corps  is  now  encamp'd  upon  the  edge 
Of  this  small  stream  just  where  it  runs  through 
yonder  cedar  grove." 

Then  they  clasped  their  hands  and  sighed  the 

vow  that 

They  would,  when  the  battle  ceased  and  he  had 
Swept  with  giant  strength   the  proud  survivor 
Of  their  wrongs  from  earth,  be  wed.     So,  Daisy, 
Hailed  the   dawn  of  that  bright  day,   thinking 

much 

14* 


162  DAISY   SWAIN, 

Of  the  sweet  promise  and  of  many  years 
Of  bliss  in  store,  and  said  whatever  might 
Betide,  she'd  share  his  fate  on  future  fields 
Of  proud  renown  or  fall  with  him  in  victory. 
So,  trusting  in  Heaven  for  strength  and  quick 
With  nimble  feet  she  with  him  flew,  to  dare 
The  paths  which  Athol  oft  had  dared  before. 

Then  ere  the  redd'ning  sun  that  day  had  set, 
Sounds  of  drums  and  war's  alarms  were  heard 

upon 

The  wind.     Hosts  of  men  with  hollow  eyes, 
Haggard    cheeks,    and   with    their    bright    arms 

gleaming 

In  the  sun,  cross'd  Potomac's  flood  to  wage 
Impious  war  upon  Antietam's  plain. 
There  McClellan  brave,  his  country's  pride,  but 
Short-lived  faction's  hate,  unfurled  his  banner 
To  the  vent'rous  foe,  and  led  in  proud  array 
His  daring  thousands  forth,  who  far  and  wide 


THE  FLO  WEE  OF   SHENANDOAH.         163 

Dispersed  Lee's  plund'ring  hosts. 

In  Daisy's  eyes 

It  was  an  awful  sight  to  see,  face  to  face, 
Christian  freemen  stand  in  line  of  battle  dread 
Hurling  ruin,  waste,  and  death  around  her  : 
Terrible  the  vengeful  shouts  and  horrid  yells 
Which  rose  amid  the  thundering  cannon's  peal : 
Heart-rending  cries  of  mortal  agony, 
And  shrieks  of  death  from  mangled  corse  ascend 
ing. 

And  when  the  discordant  din  of  strife  had 
Died  upon  the  evening  breeze,  she  bounded 
'Midst  the  heroic  slain,  and  called,  with  cries 
Of  sadness,  the  name  of  him  who  promised 
Her,  ere  long,  the  nuptial  ring.     So,  onward, 
Wild  in  aspect,  across  the  bloody  plain 
She  flew,  searching,  with  tearful  eyes  along, 
With  brothers  o'er  brothers  bending,  fathers 
O'er  slaughter'd  sons,  and  friends  loudly  mingling 


164 


DAISY   SWAIN, 


Their  lamentations  with  the  wounded' s  groans, 
Her  Athol's  bleeding  form  ;  when  soon,  among 
The  ghastly  slain,  she  spied,  prostrate  upon 


The  ensanguined  ground,  the  guerilla  chief, 
Athol's  mortal  foe,  'gainst  whom  he  strove  in 
Rage  of  battle  hot,  and  triumph'd  o'er  at  last 
For,  a  deadly  minie  ball  from  Athol's 
Well-aimed  carbine  had  gone  whizzing  where 


THE  FLOWEK  OF  SHENANDOAH.        165 

The  chieftain  stood,  urging  on  his  men,  and  sank 
Him  'mid  the  rebel  dead. 

Seeing  his  fate, 

She  raised  her  hands  on  high,  and  utter'd  "  God 
Be  praised,  thy  retribution's  just :"  then  hurried 
On  in  grief,  low  bending,  scrutinizing, 
In  the  moon's  pale  beam,  ev'ry  pallid  face 
That  lay  cold  in  death,  to  find  her  love. . 

Soon  from  the  blood-stained  grass  a  muttered 

prayer 

With  mournful  groans  upon  her  ears  sounded. 
Quickly  whence  the  moans  arose  she  hastened  ; 
And  there,  alas !  quite  faint,  expiring,  saw 
Her  lover  writhing  in  his  wounds,  bleeding 
Fast,  all  welt'ring  in  his  life  blood,  gasping 
Hard  for  breath  ;  his  dark  hair  drenched  with 

gore  ;  his 
Musket  by  his  side,  its  handle  firmly  grasped. 


166 


DAISY   SWAIN, 


Franticly,  slie  called  him  by  his  name  ;  stooped 
And  fondly  clasped  her  Athol  to  her  heart, 
Brushed  the  matted  locks  back  from  his  brow  and 
Gazing  on  his  dying  eyes,  she  bade  him  speak 


THE  FLO  WEE   OF   SHENANDOAH.         167 

One  dear  fond  word  to  her,  his  Daisy  fair. 
He  muttered  "  Oh  !  is  that  you,  love,  my  bride  ?" 
Then  gave  a  gurgling  sound  and  lay  a  breathless 
corpse. 

Swift  frenzy  lit  her  eyes.     A  mortal  pang 
Her  heart  struck,     She  gave  a  shriek  and  cried 

aloud, 

"  Oh !  God,  thy  will  be  done,"  then  fell  upon 
Her  lover's  clay-cold  corse,  kissed  his  bloodless  lips 
And  on  his  mangled  bosom  died. 


FINIS, 


M130925 


D 


VC159248 

THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


